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SL'SA^•^•AH— " Beautiful eveu in Londou."— Page 246. 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO 



E Eale of tije Hebolutiou, 



EMBRACING 



AN AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT OF THE THRILLING INCIDENTS AND EXCITING 

EPISODES OF THE STRUGGLE FOR INDEPENDENCE ; GRAPHIC 

SKETCHES OF REVOLUTIONARY CELEBRITIES; THE STORY 

OF DEBORAH SAMSON, THE WOMAN SOLDIER ; AND 

A COMPLETE DRAMA OF AMERICAN LIFE 

ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



BY 

JULIA MCNAIR WRIGHT. 



Ilhistratcb fottb autbcnttt |,lortraits, diagrams, anb ^hk 




JONES BROTHERS & CO. 

CINCINNATI, PHILADELPHIA, CHICAGO, 
MEMPHIS, ATLANTA. 

1876. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S76, by 

JOHN T. JONES, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 






ELKCTROTYPEI> AT 

FttA>KUN TVPK FOCNUEV, 

CINCINNATI. 



/ a 33 



/ 



PREFACE 



rpHE following pages are not a novel or romance, but a 
Chronicle, of the years from 1773 to 1784 inclusive. A chron- 
icle, not only of public and historic deeds, but also of domestic 
life and incidents. Beside great events and fields of blood, 
lie homes and home scenes. There runs along by the wild 
tide of war, the calm stream of daily duties, the quiet toils 
of women, and the plays of little children. Here, not only 
are represented some — British and American, Patriots and To- 
ries — whose memories are preserved only in the line of their 
own descendants, but others, whose names are of renown, and 
whose lives are an inheritance of the civilized world. 

Certain facts about this work must be noted. It 's in- 
tended to be, and is, a careful presentation— a photograph, in- 
deed — of the mannei's, daily lives, style of speech, culture, 
dress, amusements, customs, housekeeping, avocations, reading, 
and habits, of Americans — one hundred years ago. 

All the historic characters introduced speak, not w'ords put 

into their mouths by a writer, but words exactly their own, 

that have come down as matters of historic verity. It might 

(iii) 



iv PREFACE. 

have been thought that the care of a Dame AVarreu, the dili- 
gence of a Stark, the researches of a Bancroft, the compre- 
hensiveness of a Ividpath, the aptness and assiduity of a Hil- 
dreth, the zeal of a Watson, and the lively gossiping of a 
Mrs. Ellet, must have already recorded every Revolutionary 
incident, and yet some events of the time were even by these 
omitted, and are in this Chronicle for the first time made public. 

It is fitting that the story of our separation from the mother- 
country should 1)6 set forth without rancor or bitterness toward 
either side, and that the feelings, opinions, and arguments of 
those who conscientiously took different sides in that famous 
struggle should be exj^licated. A man was not necessarily a 
demon, because he was a Tory; nor a saint, because he was a 
Patriot. 

Again, there were giants in those days, moral giants, not 
merely in tlie higher ranks of the army, but in the station of 
coir.mon soldiers; men who in their narrower spheres, showed 
the heroic virtues of a "Washington, and of such we would pre- 
serve the portraiture. 

Since that period of our nation's birth, our whole public and 
private life has undergone such a change, that these cameos 
of scenes of that time are more valuable as curiosities, than 
even for beauty. One who carefully reads this history of 
that epoch will have firmly fixed in mind the origin and causes 
of the difficulty between England and the thirteen colonies, the 
relation, weight, proceedings, life and death of many of the 
leading men of that day ; a clear idea of our foreign relations ; 



PREFACE. V 

of the sequence and bearing of public events; of the progress 
of the war in all the colonies ; the victories and defeats, the suf- 
ferings and triumphs, the daily business, and pleasures, hopes, 
fears, losses, despair, and joys, of the people in their homes ; a 
glimpse of the thousand sacrifices and conquests and martyr- 
doms that fell then to the share of private life. 

The religious views, questions, and training which had a pow- 
erfully moulding influence on 2:)ublic opinion when differences 
arose between England and her Colonies, have been too gener- 
ally disregarded. The Revolution of 1776 was the harvest of 
Luther's seed-sowing in 1521. The high hearts of Scotch Cove- 
nanters, and English Puritans, and French Huguenots, and 
Holland Beggars, wrought out the problem of national freedom, 
and laid deep and broad and lasting the foundations of repub- 
lican institutions. Blood that had garrisoned Londonderry, 
leaped at the challenge to war for a principle, in Georgia and 
the Carolinas; and the followers of the conquering House of 
Orange shouted Amen to the Meckhnberg Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. 

And yet, there were honest inen to whose hearts and in 
whose ideas, England was indeed a mother; who felt that to 
sunder ties with her, would be foully unfilial; and who, like 
David, cried "Who shall stretch his hand against the Lord's 
Anointed, and be guiltless?" 

While careful histories, frequently by eye-witnesses, of the 
public events of the Revolutionary War have been multiplied, 
a clear picture of daily domestic life, education, and views, 



vi PREFACE. 

has long been needed. Such a knowledge of our ancestors is 
usually as vague as our views of the domestic manners of the 
Trojans or Carthagenians ; or of the Egyptians before the 
tombs were opened ; or of the Romans before Macaulay sang 
his Lays. 

We know generally that our ancestors wore knee-breeches, 
and wigs, and powder ; and we do not realize that they did not 
read daily the Times or Tribune, and that they had not Walter 
Scott and Washington Irving on their book-shelves, and friction 
matches in their kitchens. 

To bring those to whom we owe not merely physical, but na- 
tional and moral life, home to us, so that across the gulf of one 
hundred years we can shake hands with them, and be friends, 
as well as descendants, is one of the several objects of this 

work. 

The Author. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



Why the book appears. — New Interests in old times. — A bit of family 
history. — Old Paisley. — Family feud. — Grandfather. — Aunt Jean and 
Uncle John. — An old lady's vengeance. — A manuscript. — The British 
Museum. — A search successful. — A pair of pictures. — Grandmother's 
mother 19-25. 

CHAPTER II. 

A Plymouth Homestead. — A Little Maid of the Puritans. — One of 
the old Covenanters. — Dame Mercy Warren. — Memories of the League 
and Covenant. — The Scotsmen of the West Country. — A Theory of Gov- 
ernment. — Dame Warren advises journalizing. — Long and short lines. — 
A present. — Tea and Taxes. — Can these men be heroes. — A morning 
gallop. — An India Scarf. — Full dress one hundred years ago. — Gentle- 
men and Ladies of j'e olden time. — Keeping a one hundredth birth- 
day. — Dinner table politics. — A Patriot and Tory. — Discussion of the 
causes of dissatisfaction between the Mother Country and the Colonies. — 
Manners of our Revolutionary Ancestors 2G-46. 

CHAPTER III. 

Dame Mercy Warren and Abbey Temple. — ^That dreadful creature, a 
boy. — Boys and girls one hundred years ago. — Great grandfather and the 
lassie. — A Puritan Sermon. — An old man's blessing. — P'amily traditions. — 
"Christ's Crown and Covenant!" — Colonial newspapers. — Cousin Bessie. — 
Three R's. — Daughter's of Liberty and Hyperion. — A young lady of 
1773. — A coquette one hundred years ago. — Spinning in the garret. — 
Novel of old time. — The Otis Family. — Gala dress of ancient days. — 
"The evil art of dancing." — A sudden interruption. — At Dame War- 
ren's. — Private Theatricals in a barn. — Patriotic songs. — Bessie's flirta- 
tions. — A model j'oung man. — Training day. — Minute Men. — " Colonial 

lubbers." 47-70. 

(vii) 



viii CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Bessie and her iniquities. — Occupations of a New England family. — 
Tea Sliips. — The Taisch. — Remedy for nervousness. — A Massachusetts 
Woman. — A Plymouth fireside. — Colonial agitations. — Tories for gain. — 
"Sons of Liberty." — "War Sermon. — Tea ships at Boston. — Letter from 
Mistress Abigail Adams. — The Covenanters' last days. — A battle cry and 
a victory. — A winter funeral. — Xews of the famous Tea Party. — Patriots 
last resort. — The cloud of war. — What* may be in a hundred years from 
1774. — A quilting party. — A lonely heart. — People with histories. 71-95. 

CHAPTER V. 

In Boston. — Boston a Century ago. — A yoimg lady's dress. — From Ply- 
mouth to Boston. — What our grandiuothers studied ; how they occupied 
their time. — Boston Port Bill. — Public sympathy. — Errand of Paul 
Revere. — Massachusetts Patriots. — A new Governor. — Gifts to Boston. — 
A young girl's reading a century ago. — A reproof not taken in good 
part. — At Plymouth. — A lock of hair. — Putnam in Boston.— National 
Congress in Philadelphia in 1,774.— The quiet currents of life. — Deborah 
Samson. — A bound girl's fortunes. — Hoeing a hard row.— A Negro's war 
principles.— The "Home Guard." — Hiring Indians to light. . 95-121. 

CHAPTER VI. 

News from the Continental Congress.— Brig Peggy Stuart.— Patriot and 
Tory.- Make a compact.— A high heart.— Visit from British officers. — 
A snow bound liouse.— Two kinds of Tories.— Commemoration of the 
Boston Massacre.— War begins.— Night ride of Paul Revere.— Battle of 
Lexington.— The curse of civil war.— Isaiah Hooper joins the army.— 
Stark and Putnam go to camp.— Deborah in the field.— Giving break- 
fast to the recruits.— Ethan Allen, his politics, creed, and exploits.— 
The Colonies rising to arms.— Stores for the army.— Powder.— Washington 
chosen commander-in-chief.— Battle of Bunker Hill.— Death of Warren.— 
Spies at Plymouth.— Minute-men's revenge.— ^Ministers plea.- A Patriot 
martyr.— A woman's heart broken.— Grandmother's last will and Testa- 
ment.— The "pewter for bullets.''- Two chests.— Christmas night.— 
Burial Hill at Plymouth 122-148. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Doings at Congress.— Sending supplies to camp.— Franklin comes back 
from England.— Petition from Congress to the King.— Virginia.— The new 
flag !— Bessie Warley comes to take possession.— Debtors and creditors.— 



CONTENTS. ix 

Bessie in a passion.— A pewter bottle. — Two strings to one's bow.— A fash- 
ionable young lady's amusements.— The new minister.— Bessie's new 
lover. —Richard Reid as Othello.— Seige of Boston.— Heroic self-sacritices. — 
Skirmishes in the Carolinas.— Deborah Samson's disguise. — Going for a sol- 
dier.— Hannah Dana goes to camp.— Such a naughty Bessie.— Love and 
rage.— Starting for Philadelphia.— Puritan Pilgrim's Progress.— Recognizes 
Robert Shirtliffe.— Tavern fare and prices, tavern drinks and topics one 
hundred years ago.— From Plymouth to Philadelphia on horseback.— A 
queer calvacade.— .July 4th, 1776.— Judith at the door.— The ring of lib- 
ertvbell 149-180. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Uncle John Temple's family.— Puritan domestic life.— Pretty girls.— 
Philadelphia a century ago.— A Tory family.— Young loves crossed.— 
"Which side shall conquer, England or the Colonies.- Brothers on dif- 
ferent sides.— Giving a son to the country.— A curious covenant.— The 
Theater in the attic— Uncle John's indignation.— "O, Comus, Conius!"— 
Private life in Pliiladelphia during the Revolution.— Sewing for the sol- 
diers.— A ball in the attic— The head-dress on lire.— Early hours.— Mas- 
querading as beggars. — Serious consequences. — The battle of Trenton. — 
"Washington crossing the Delaware.— Rahl's death.— Charles wounded.— 
Going to the scene of war.— A winter ride to Trenton. . . 181-209. 

CHAPTER IX. 

At a Quaker's home. — Kind Mistress Stacy Potts. — Alight of "Wash- 
ington. — Deborah as Robert again. — The army clad. — Camp fires along 
the Assanpink. — Battle of Princeton. — Death of ]\Iercer. — That coward. — 
Robert Morris raising funds. — Borrowing from a Quaker. — Judith's dona- 
tipn. — The American Fabhis. — Winter-quarters at Morristown. — The 
Howe Brothers. — Lovers in war time. — Books from England. — A lovely 
Tory lady. — Bessie and Mr. Bowdoin. — Exchange of Prisoners. — Isaiah 
Hooper, and the prison hulk "Jersey." — Nigh unto death. — A woman's 
ministrations. — An incorruptible Patriot. — A Uriah of '76. — Men of iron. — 
Putnam at Philadelphia.— Meeting with Doctor Franklin.— A man in 
love.— The wrong thing at the wrong time. — Toryism flourishing. — The 
second 4th of July. Visit from Thomas Otis. — Girls and lovers.— A wise 
woman's words. — Dark days and disasters. — Sullivan's defeat. — Marquis 
Lafayette. — Philadelphia in the hands of Cornwallis. . . 210-240. 

CHAPTER X. 

Fright of the colored people. — A garrison of girls. — Summoned to sur- 
render. — Patriot women. — Hester and the weed. — Uninvited guests. — 



X CONTENTS. 

A mixed dinner party. — A conquering beauty. — Sharp replies. — A Tory 
to the rescue. — Henrj' Seaforth and Judith. — Donop's defeat. — A Hessian 
prisoner. — The mercenaries. — Winter of 1777. — Burgoyne's surrender. — 
Yankee Doodle. — Frigates captured. — Battle of Germantown. — A British 
lover, — Two strings of Warley wisdom. — Bessie holds forth on the best 
you can do for yourself. — British occupation of Philadelphia. — Cajitain 
Andre. — Turncoats. — Mr. Duche. — A spy in the house. — Escaping a 
halter. — A girl's quick wits. — Going to the Logan home. — A subterranean 
passage. — Ta-ga-jute the Indian 240-277. 



CHAPTER XI. 

A young lady's winter in Revolutionary times.— Logan House.— A 
nymph of 1777. — Value of a fan. — ^listress Logan's dinner. — Logan's 
ghost. — A light-brained captain. — The secret key. — Sending news to 
"Washington. — Battle of AVhite Marsh. — News of the Patriot army. — 
Uncle Temple appears. — A valuable petticoat, and an unsuspected 
money purse. — An early start.— A neutral's troubles. — Uncle and Abbey 
going to camp. — The patriotic ferrj-man. — Camp at Valley Forge.— Sol- 
dier's life.— Privations of the Patriots. — Washington's head-quarters. — 
The nurse in camp. — The New Year's dinner party. — The friends in 
camp. — Sick in camp. — An Indian friend. — Washington's dinner. — Lady 
Washington at Valley Forge. — The General's prayer. — The pathos of 
Logan. — Visitors bj' a kitchen fire. — Two armies contrasted. — Bryan 
Fairfax. — Arrival of Baron Steuben. — The Baron's difficulties. — A drill. 
— Fortunes of war.— Getting home. — A long absence. . . 278-309. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Dame Warren's history. — Uncle John and his daughter Susannah. — 
A British lover. — Liking a man better than his cause. — A Patriot 
maiden.— War and lovers. — General Howe to be superseded. — Phila- 
delphia about to be evacuated. — Bessie and her principles. — A loyal 
soul. — Mistress Seaforth on the King's army. — A matron's advice upon 
love and marriage. — London and the Colonies.— Lady Washington's 
caution and compliment. — A chaperon secured. — Captain Banks ac- 
cepted. — Officers' club house. — Captain Andre. — Doctor Franklin's house, 
— Hester's wit. — Gates, Greene, and Howe. — Persistent guests. — Doctor 
Franklin in Paris. — A treaty of alliance.— France and Spain. — A junto 
of Patriots. — Neutral allies. — Dinner table politics. — King of Prussia and 
the mercenaries. — Dangers of America. — Congress is timid. — The money. — 
Easy to condemn.— Sending to Nantes for goods.— Grandmother's la«e, — 
Mary Pemberton's coach.— A spy in the city. — The prisoners are ill. — 
Sent to Logan House 309-331. 



CONTENTS. xi 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Logan House to be burnt. — Madam Logan's presence of mind. — 
Clearing out a fashionable dwelling. — Captain Banks. — A reprieve. — A 
drunkard's follj'. — A laughable scene. — Return to the city. — Bessie de- 
termines to be foolish. — A wedding in 1776. — The wedding party. — 
General Howe and Judith. — Repartee. — Puritan principles. — A gay couple 
beginning life. — Evil omens. — Signs of the times. — Light for the pa- 
triots. — The English Commons desire peace. — The power of kings. — This 
waste of lives. — The stir of departure. — Mirth and War. — " Philadelphia 
has captured Howe; not Howe Philadelphia.'" — The Howe brothers 
under the displeasure of the Minister of War. — The conmiissioners from 
England. — Flight of Tories. — Steady fathers' views of the follies of the 
time. — The Mischianza. — An alarm. — Howe Brothers. — The British evac- 
uate Philadelphia.— Tory Terror 331-353. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

A girl's dream of war. — Arnold occupies Philadelphia. — The battle of 
Monmouth. — Lee's evil star. — Howe's retreat through the Jerseys. — Failure 
of the commissioners. — Reed's reply. — French fleet arrives just too late. — 
Massacre of Wyoming. — Woes of Wyoming. — British prognostications. — 
Charles at home. — A soldier's return. — A bashful maid. — Armj' in sum- 
mer. — Hannah Dana's outfit. — Mr. Reid's eulogism. — Oaks and roses. — 
" Good-bye, Thomas." — Mr. Bowdoin's delusion. — In a garden. — Arnold in 
the city. — Miss Shippen. — Continental monej'. — Spain and America. — 
The widow Ross and her money. — Affairs at Rhode Island. — Georgia 
and General Lincoln. — The Jerseys. — A letter from Bessie. — Goods from 
Nantes. — A meeting in the street. — Robert Shirtliffe again. — Christmas 
1778. — Poor Deborah! — Her story. — Massacre at Cherry Valley. — Isaiah 
Hooper disappears. — A letter from Dame Warren. — A ride in Wa.shing- 
ton's cortege. — Trouble about Arnold. — Camp in 1779. . . 353-377. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Winter-quarters 1779. — Baron Steuben. — Ladies in Camp. — At Wash- 
ington's headquarter.s. — Robert Shirtliffe. — A friend in need. — General 
Washington handles a difficult question discreetly. — A soldier's dis- 
charge. — Condemned unheard. — An un-feed attorney. — Saying a les.son 
well. — Richard Reid's intentions. — Apples a dollar each. — A spy in 
camp. — All for nothing. — A grand fete in camp. — General Arnold's 
court-martial. — Letters from Bessie. — A pass to New York. — Exchanged 
prisoners. — The beautiful river. — At New York in 1779. — Bessie in dis- 



xii CONTENTS. 

tress.— A new nurse.— Living in Xew York.— Captain Banks's singular 
manners. — Letters from London. — Why not? — New dresses from Lon- 
don. — Major Andre. — The review. — Bessie elated. — An English Lady. — 
The little lad. — A terrible denouement. — The fearful game played to 
the end. — Mr. Warley. — The ensign. — Explanation. — Mr. Seaforth sum- 
moned. — A dead man on a bier. — Shot through the heart. — The Eng- 
lish Mrs. Banks. — My uncle's heart and fortune. . . . 378-405. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Bessie in Philadelphia. — Connecticut wasted. — "Mad Anthony's" ex- 
ploits. — "Light-horse Harry" at Paulus Hook. — The American Fahius. — 
Paul Jones. — Washington at West Point. — Rhode Lsland evacuated. — 
British in the South. — Providing for soldiers. — Charles gone North. — 
Headquarters at Morristown. — The valueless money. — Nothing to give. — 
Bravo, Jersey. — A cold winter. — Arnold reprimanded. — Hannah Dana 
ill. — Going to Morristown. — The farm-house. — A peddler. — A dog a 
four-legged defender. — A terrible scene. — An escape. — Joseph Dana 
wounded. — Taken to Philadelphia. — Sent home armless. — Lafayette's 
return. — ^Mutiny. — Pain and Patriotism. — Isaiali Hooper Mi.ssing. — Letter 
from Deborah. — Ta-ga-jute at his father's grave. — The Indian's white 
brother. — Tbe chief's errand. — A wounded friend. — Faithful unto death. — 
Trust and remorse. — "Good-by(^ Bessie." — "He died believing in her." — 
Whose fault is it?— Children of the covenant. . . . 40G-428. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Affairs in the sjiring of 1780. — Troubles between Congress and the 
army. — The hero of the age. — Death of De Kalb. — War in Virginia. — 
Arnold's treason. — The whole storj'. — Andre's doom. — Intentions are not 
dealt with in court-martials. — Mrs. Arnold. — No news of Colonel Nel- 
son. — Was Thomas dead? — A lock of fair hair. — Retrospection. — Susan- 
nah's faith. — A true girl's heart. — Hard winters. — Laurens sent to France 
to ask funds. — The soldiers of the Revolution. — The great mutiny. — Reed 
to the front. — Clinton's proposals. — "What, are we all Arnolds?" — Robert 
Morris at the tea-table. — Proposals in Congress. — Confederation and 
LTnion. — Moving toward unitj'. — Virginia gentlemen. — Arnold ravaging 
Virginia. — Cowpens and Guilford Court-house. — Greene leads a cliase. — 
A goodly Saxon knight. — A British view of affairs. — Plans for spring war- 
fare. — Richard Reid vexed. — At tea. — A wonderful surpri.se. — Isaiah res- 
cued.— Ta-ga-jute does his duty.— His story.— Captive in Shawnee 
Town. — A hero everv inch. 429-451. 



CONTENTS. xiii 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Uncle Matthew's visit. — A ride. — A drover. — The Frenchman's. — Mr. 
Reid sliot. — The girl dragged off. — A struggle for life. — "Who shall drowi>. — 
A rescuer. — Hurled over the cliff. — Ta-ga-jute. — Richard revives. — Re- 
turning home in a cart. — The invalids. — Going to the country. — Sum- 
mer on the Delaware. — A swift messenger. — Terrible tidings. — A niglit 
ride. — The dying officer. — The father's coming. — The price of victory. — 
This is the fruit of war. — Old men's tears. — The Saxon knight's returi>« — 
Hearts break but war goes on. — The Burial at the vault. — At home< — 
Desolation. — Susannah the fair. — Sliarp ciuestions. — A sad visit. — More 
hopeful prospects 452-473. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A lull in war times. — August 1781. — Xews of the army in motioiv — 
Washington coming. — Patriot army marches through Philadelphia* — 
Worn Patriots and splendid French allies. — ]\Iai'ch to head of Elk* — 
Laurens' success. — The parting. — Cross purposes and cross maidens- — 
Hester's new freak. — The lost soldier. — Washington's ride to head of 
Elk. — Good news in the city. — Big bonfires. — Mount Vernon. — Virginian 
hospitality. — Lady Washington at home. — The allied fleet. — News at 
midnight. — ''One o'clock and Cornwallis is taken!" — A wild night.— 
Mutations of fortune. — Description of the siege of Yorktown. — A Patriot 
Governor. — The surrender. — Sorrow in joy. — Death of Mr. Curtis. — Han- 
nah Dana's lonely grave. — Anxieties of General Washington. — Dreams of 
Plymouth. — Nothing to wear in 1782. — Belles of the olden times. 474-498. 



CHAPTER XX. 

Lady Washington in Philadelphia.— A call on Lady Washingtoni — 
"I should suppose so." — Uncle John proposes to buy the old home- 
stead.— Beautiful vistas.— What the land will need.— The army at New- 
berg.— Dangers of peace. — Commissioners in Paris. — Hardships in camp. — 
Bitter to the end.— The truant Colonel's return.— A live sale.— Taken 
into favor. — A Revolutionary father. — Briti.sh and British. — Our Susan- 
nah is happy.— A new arrival. — A guest from Canada.— Prison life in 
Montreal. — A fantastic couple. — .Judith gives sound advice. — A young 
lady speaks to the point.— Turning the heel of a stocking. — Discontents 
in the army.— Waiting for news from England. — Dawnings of peaces- 
Confiscating Tory property. — Honest men's contracts. — The idea of a 
Republic. — What kind of men are needed. — And what kind of women* — 
True life of Republics. — The remedy for all the evils in the world. — 
Death of Otis. — Sending to France for goods. . . . 498-525. 



xiv CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Reduction of the army. — Jan. 1st, 1783. — Sir Guy Carleton in New 
York. — Thomas and Hester. — An expected marriage. — Deborah Sam- 
son again. — The anonymous papers in the army. — Wasliington's telling 
speech. — Letters from Congress to the army. — Arrival of the Triumph. — 
Letter from Lafayette. — Soldier become citizen. — The Pl3'mouth hero 
goes home. — Eight years of absence. — The goods from Nantes. — Hester's 
wedding. — The house in Boston. — A wedding journey 100 years ago. — 
At the old home in Plymouth. — Richard Reid in the old home. — Han- 
nah's parents. — The joyous greeting. — The mutineers in Philadelphia. — 
Congress adjourns to Princeton. — A Patriot and a Tory joined in holy 
matrimony. — Bessie and Mrs. Seaforth. — Colonel Nelson returns from 
England. — A jolly British uncle. — Treaty signed in Paris. — All the land 
our own. — Washington resigns his commission. — The scene at Annap- 
opolis. — New Year's eve 1784. — Two letters. — God bless you! — A colored 
woman's opinions and intentions. — *' Me an' Peter an' Pompey." — The old 
home and the new life and a cheerful greeting. — May the word be ful- 
filled unto us 525-548, 



ILLUSTEATIOKS. 



Page. 
Susannah— " Beautiful even in London" (Frontispiece) 

Grandmotlier's Mother . . 25 

Tire Old Farm 28 

Portrait of Patrick Henry 44 

The old Thirteen Colonies 46 

Grandfather's Church 52 

Novel Reading , 59 

Nut Gathering — A New England Scene 79 

Portrait of Samuel Adams ........ 80 

Winter at Plymouth 84 

By Coacli to Boston 99 

Night Ride of Paul Revere ........ 103 

Abbey at Home with Grandfather Ill 

Carpenter's Hall— 1774 . . * 113 

Telling the War-News 115 

Bringing home the letters 122 

Scene of the Battle of Bunker Hill— 1775 139 

Burial Hill at Plymouth 148 

The Retreat from Quebec 151 

The Old Mill 161 

Faneuii Hall— Boston 162 

Portrait of Deborah Samson as "Robert Shirtliffe" . . . 167 

Bessie and Mr. Bowdoin . 168 

State House— Philadelphia, 1776 177 

House in which Decl. of Independence was written. . . . 179 

Independence Bell . ISO 

Philadelphia and vicinity — 1776 182 

Independence Hall . 183 

Map of the Jerseys — 1776 190 

Portrait of Dr. Benjamin Franklin 193 

Portrait of General Greene 196 

Battle of Long Island— 1776 197 

Battle of Trenton— 1776 208 

Portrait of General Washington 211 

The Prison Hulk "Jersey " 223 

Isaiah Hooper on his farm ........ 225 

(15) 



16 ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page. 

Fourth of July Celebration in 1777 233 

Portrait of General Burgoyne . . 234 

Portrait of General Sullivan 237 

Portrait of La Fayette 238 

Portrait of Lord Cornwallis 239 

Portrait of General Fraser . . 249 

Burgoyne's Encampment 250 

Scene of Burgoyne's Surrender . 251 

Bessie and Abbey — "What! has he asked you? " .... 261 

Portrait of Captain Andre 263 

Portrait of Ta-ga-jute Logan — The White Man's friend . . . 277 

The Subterranean Passage under the Logan House .... 283 

Bringing in the Yule Log — Logan House 286 

Supplies for Army at Valley Forge 291 

Encampment at Valley Forge— 1777-8 292 

Hannah Dana ... 295 

Portrait of Lady Washington 300 

Portrait of General Arnold 353 

The Beautiful Valley of Wyoming 357 

Portrait of Brandt 359 

Portrait of General Francis Marion 368 

Indian Massacre in Cherry Valley 374 

Eeturn of La Fayette to France 385 

Bessie convalescent 395 

Verplanck's Point, from Stony Point Lighthouse .... 404 

Portrait of General Anthony Wayne 407 

Subscriptions for the Continental Army 409 

Scene of Arnold's Treason •. . . . 431 

The Arrest of Major Andre 432 

The Logan House 450 

Portrait of General Heath 483 

Mt. Vernon, the home of Washington 484 

Siege of Yorktown— 1781 489 

The Surrender of Lord Cornwallis 490 

Washington's Headquarters at Newberg 501 

Portrait of Sir Guy Carleton 502 

Capture of Thomas Otis by the Lidians 511 

Abbey and Richard visit Plymouth 535 

AVashington resigning his command ....... 542 

The End 548 



IrhtroclTLctory jVote. 



TT was the vice of the old-school historians that they 
■^ dealt only with the public aifairs of nations. According 
to their philosophy, events were nothing unless projected 
on the heroic scale : and the difference between the 
heroic and the Quixotic was often undiscoverable. The 
most obscure annalist felt called upon to mask, mount, 
and marshal his characters, and set them all a-j ousting. 
The world was a tournament and human life a ceremony. 
Here was a king, there a priest, and yonder a warrior. 
Here was a Senate debating, there an army marching, 
and yonder a city sacked by janizaries. The whole 
panorama was a thing remote from the real dispositions 
and purposes of life ; a pageant of idealities rather than 
a drama of facts. 

Not so with the historical writings of the New Era. 
History now hath its undercurrent, upon whose abound- 
ing bosom are borne the destinies of all men. Now have 
the lowly found a voice ; the weak man, a tongue ; the 

poor man, an oracle. The poets from Wordsworth down, 

(17) 



1 8 INTEOD UCTOR Y NOTE. 

the great novelists, and the new-school historians have 
praised the common lot and made it beautiful. Every- 
day life has been crowned with all the beatitudes of 
letters and art. The discovery has at last been made 
that Manners and Customs are the vital parts of history ; 
that what the people think about and hope for is more 
important in the records of nationality than the story of 
intrigues, debates, and battles. 

The following work is a contribution to the history of 
the social life of the fathers. It aspires to be considered 
a special study made in the by-ways of the Revolution. 
The aim has been to preserve and present, in a compact 
and attractive form, the story of some important facts 
likely to be overlooked or forgotten in the glamour of 
the great Centennial — facts already but half discover- 
able through the shadows, and soon to be lost in oblivion 
unless preserved in some such record as this. 

THE PUBLISHERS. 

July 1st, 1876. 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



CHAPTER I. 

THE story's history. 

rPHINGS trifling in themselves, at the time and place of 
their orig-in, become of worth as curiosities when re- 
moved to a certain distance of space, or as antiquities when 
removed to a certain distance of time. In this centennial 
year of our Republic every relic of Revolutionary days 
has acquired an arbitrary value. "What a treasure to the 
"Committee" would be that famous pie for which one 
hundred dollars of Colonial currency were paid! What 
a romance hangs about some idle letter, describing a party 
given to Lord Howe ; or a fragment of a complimentary 
note bearing the signature of Martha Washington. This 
interest in all that belongs to our Revolutionary struggle 
has influenced me to present to the public a simple memo- 
rial of family life one hundred years ago, which until now 
would only have been interesting to the descendants of 
her by whom it was written. In editing this chronicle for 
the public I feel obliged to give an account of its origin 

and history. My paternal grandfather was a Scotchman 

(19) 



20 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

from Paisley. He left home early in life, and having 
settled in New York State, after some years married a 
maiden of mingled Scotch and Puritan blood. About a 
decade after the marriage, my grandmother's mother died, 
and among her papers was found a portly roll of yellow 
manuscript, written in a clear, bold hand. My grand- 
mother at once recognized this as the record of her 
mother's early life — a bit of family chronicle which she 
had heard read in her young days, and which had been 
carefully preserved by its author, as a relic of happy and 
yet often anxious hours. 

My grandfather had, with Scotch tenacity, clung to his 
home and kindred over seas. He had been often urged 
to bring his wife on a visit to the old country relations; 
but family and business cares had prevented him frona 
accepting the invitation. Yet he was exceedingly de- 
sirous of making his large circle of brothers and sisters 
feel acquainted with their "American relative," and when 
he had read the story left by his mother-in-law he thought 
that if he sent the manuscript, with miniatures of the au- 
thor and her daughter, his wife, it would serve to make 
the whole family feel less like strangers to him and his. 
His parents being dead, he very naturally sent his gift to 
his eldest brother John, with a request that he would 
"lend it around" among his family friends. 

Now, my great-uncle John had made a good marriage, 
and prospered in his business; and, among other strokes 
of good luck, it had been his fortune to rent a historic bit 
of property — nothing less than the Grange, near Crooks- 
town Castle, once a royal demesne, and belonging to Mar- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 21 

garet, wife of James IV. of Scotland, and daughter of 
Henry VII. of England. This Grange had been one of 
the homes of Mary Stuart, with her governess and nurse, 
before her departure for France. The Grange had fallen 
from hand to hand, the old dwelling still standing, until 
it was rented, with a mill property, to my great-uncle 
John. Success had made this worthy man a little arro- 
gant: established in what had been an abode of royalty, 
beholding around him the oaken wainscotings and the 
tapestried panels which had graced the home of the luck- 
less and ill-deserving princess, he began to feel himself in 
some occult fashion allied to the Tudors and Stuarts, and 
treated his own family in a lofty and dictatorial manner. 
Those canny Scots were unruffled by this style of l^roth- 
erly kindness; they merely accepted it as "ane o' Johnny's 
ways" — all but my great-aunt Jean. Aunt Jean, eldest 
of her family, a spinster who had inherited several thou- 
sand pounds from a far-oif cousin, deeply resented her 
brother's assumption of superiority. Between Jolin and 
Jean existed internecine war that nothing could placate. 

When the errant Matthew sent from America his pres- 
ent of two minia'tures on ivory, and an ancient chronicle, 
to the home of his fathers, and chose John as the recipi- 
ent of his gift, great was the wrath that surged in the soul 
of Aunt Jean. She believed that the family had entered 
into a conspiracy against her — that Matthew was confed- 
erate with John to rob her of the respect due her. John, 
with much condescension, oifered her the first reading of 
the manuscript after his own family had finished it. ^ly 
aunt Jean scornfully rejected the proifer, and avowed she . 



22 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

" wad hae naething to do wl't." True to her chosen 
policy, when the story was in the hands of a niece, whom 
she was visiting, and was to be read aloud to the house- 
hold, aunt Jean arose and left the room. (However, there 
was pretty good proof that she satisfied her curiosity by 
remaining so near an open door that she heard every word 
of all the readings.) My great-aunt could not be content 
without* some more forcible manifestation of her feelings 
in this important matter. She cast about her for a fashion 
of punishing her delinquent brothers. Where should she 
find it better than in the making her will? Aunt Jean 
theorized in general that she should some day die, as did 
other mortals; but the prospect of death was not near 
enough to set her at peace with all humankind, brothers 
Matthew and John included. She summoned a lawyer and 
had her will prepared and duly signed, and took care to 
proclaim fully the manner of her last testament. She left 
to each of her brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews, twenty 
pounds to buy a mourning ring — except to the erring John 
and Matthew, and their children. The remainder of her 
property did Aunt Jean devise to the "Breetish Museum 
Library, whar (to quote her own words)' nae doubt waur 
bulks eneugh to teach people hoo properly to respec' their 
elders." 

Thus did Aunt Jean testify to her final rejection of her 
family, her native place, and all Scottish institutions. 

Uncle John heard the ncMS, and great was his disgust. 
It was now needful that he should make his will, and pro- 
claim its contents, that Aunt Jean might find him even 
with her in the strife. Great was the debate in his heart 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 23 

when he considered how he could outrival his excellent 
sister; he was almost ready to order his body to be turned 
into a mummy and devised to the Egyptian collection in 
that famous Museum! What should he do? Uncle John 
was resolved to leave his son and daughter '' forehanded 
wi' the warld," and he would not bequeath from them one 
hoof of his thoroughbreds, one horn of his choice cattle, 
one "pund o' siller." Day after day he pondered, and 
then the solution of his difficulty came in a great burst 
of light; he leaped up, snapping his fingers, and cried: 
"I hae it the noo! I will gie the manuscript to the 
Breetish Museum." Forthwith a lawyer was summoned, 
and a codicil added to my great-uncle's last will and tes- 
tament — "The manuscrup sent frae America, to the Li- 
brary o' the Breetish Museum." When I visited Scotland 
I expected to find this famous manuscript of my great- 
grandmother still in the hands of some one of the family, 
and trusted that it might be bestowed upon me, at my re- 
quest. Uncle John and Aunt Jean had long been buried, 
and great Mas my chagrin to learn that the roll of paper, 
valueless to any one but myself, had been done up in a 
morocco case lined with silk and forwarded to the British 
Museum. A year afterward, I entered the famous Library 
as a constant reader, and when I had made acquaintance 
with the ways of the place I looked for the family manu- 
script; it was not down on the catalogue. I then applied 
to the Librarian. A little discussion and research served 
to recall the fact of Aunt Jean's legacy, but Uncle John's 
bequest had been quite forgotten. When I explained that 
the lost paper contained a bit of family history, with a 



24 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

few bints of the public affairs of a stirring time, those 
most obliging of mortals, the Librarians, set themselves 
to hunt it up. Two months passed; I had quite given 
up all hopes of seeing the object of my desire, when one 
morning the oldest Librarian came to my desk and whis- 
pered triumphantly : " We have found that manuscript. 
We got hold of it yesterday morning, and have cata- 
logued it properly. So if you will come and make out a 
f ticket you will have the paper in a few minutes." Ac- 
cordingly, within half an hour, that Revolutionary relic 
was laid on my desk. I turned over the yellow, faded, 
dusty leaves, and meditated. "My great-grandmother was 
remarkably persevering in journalizing." " They made 
wonderfully strong paper and good ink in those times." 
"Written with a quill." "Great-grandmother's chirog- 
raphy was of the very best." "What is given to this 
Museum is like time, or the spoken word, it can not be 
recalled." " What a work to copy all this, when surely it 
ought to be mine rather than the Museum's." I beck- 
oned a Librarian: "Think I could buy this?" He shook 
his head. This is as the lion's den — all steps point in, 
none out. The manuscript would be valuable as a relic 
of antiquity in the year 4000 or 5000 A. D. The Museum 
must cherish it for the benefit of posterity. All readers 
at the Museum are pledged not to peculate — in other 
. words, not to secretly borrow for indefinite periods — any 
of the books or manuscripts. Alas, that clause ! It com- 
pelled me to copy my great-grandmother's history. 

While I was thus copying, I laid on the manuscript 
those ivory miniatures of great-grandmother and her 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



25 



daughter, which had been sent to Scotland and returned 
to me. 

Pretty-faced great-grandmother! How strange that 
this manuscript which you traced under apple-trees, and 
in garrets, and by latticed windows; in joy, hope, fear, 

wonder; in the din 
of arms, in the mar- 
V e 1 of a nation's 
birth; in early love 
and mature knowl- 
edge, lies here ! And 
here is the picture 
of your child ; and 
you and she have 
grown old and wrin- 
kled and turned to 
dust; and I, your 
descendant, after so 
many years, sit in 
this old-world tem- 
ple of learning and copy the story you wrote when you and 
the nation were yet young, and doubtful of your destiny ! 




GRANDMOTHER'S MOTHER. 



" Grandmother's mother ! her age I guess 
Thirteen summers, or something less. 
Girlish bust, but womanly air; 
Smooth, square forehead, with uprolled hair; 
Lips that lover has never kissed; 
Taper fingers and slender wrist; 
Hanging sleeves of stiiT brocade — 
So they painted the little maid. 
What if, one hundred years ago, 
Those close-shut lips had answered No! 
Should I be I? or would it be 
One-tenth another to nine-tenths me? 



26 PATRIOT AND TORY : 



CHAPTER II. 

BEGINNING OF THE STORY. 

May 12, 1773. 
TTOW strange it must be to have lived one hundred 
years — a whole century! If great-grandfather lives 
until day after to-morrow — and of course he will — he 
will be one hundred years old. Sujjpose I should live 
that long, how would the world look, and how would peo- 
ple dress, and what would be going on, and who would be 
our king, one hundred years from to-day? Perhaps no- 
body would be our king. I hear very strange talk from 
those who come to see my grandfather. But how could 
people get on then? A nation without a king seems to me 
like a body without any head. To be sure there were the 
old Greeks, and the Pomans of the Republic, and Eng- 
land in Cromwell's time — but it did not last so very long; 
and there is Holland — but that is the same. My uncle 
from Philadelphia and my uncle from Virginia will be 
here to-morrow, to keep great-grandfather's birthday. I 
have helped grandmother make good things all the morn- 
ing. After dinner I came out under the big apple-tree 
in front of the house; it is so pretty here — the house 
with its nice little windows winking in the sun, and the 
high-peaked, mossy roof, and the bright red paint. I am 
sure it is prettier than any of the pictures in my grand- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 27 

mother's big Bible. The blue-birds are building a nest 
here in the apple-tree, and the redbreasts are back — one 
of them sits on the top of the well-sweep every day and 
sings for ever so long. Great-grandfather says he is 
praising God for fresh air and water, two things the dear 
old man likes very much. 

When I brought my knitting out here, great-grand- 
father came and stood in the doorway, and he looked 
very beautiful with the sun on his white head. I brought 
his big oaken chair under the tree, and grandmother put 
her best braided mat beneath his feet, and laid the big 
wolf-skin robe over his lap; the skins are of the wolves 
my father shot when he was a young man. I think he 
must have been as great as Israel Putnam, whom my 
grandfather often speaks of. When great-grandfather was 
sitting here with me I began to talk to him. I know 
how to do so now; once I did not. I used to talk to 
him about the farm, and the school, and my uncles, and 
the neighbors, and Dame Mercy Warren ; and he would 
say, "Who? What?" He has lived so long that he for- 
gets yesterday and to-day, and only remembers a long 
while ago, unless you talk to him about the Bible, or the 
old* country, or the good of the Colonies, especially this 
of ]\Iassachusetts. So now when I talk to great-grand- 
father I ask him about the old times, and the mother 
country, and then he enjoys talking. To-day I said, 
" Grandfother, vou have lived so long; that the world 
must have changed very much since you came into it. 
Don't you Avish you could remember way back to the time 
when you were a little baby?" Yes, he said he did. 



28 



PATRIOT AND TOBY: 



There was many a scene he wished he coukl remember. 
And of course I asked him, "What were they, grandfa- 
ther?" He said, "Chikl, ye have heard of the Solemn 
League and Covenant, signed by us Scots people on a 
stone in Greyfriars Churchyard in Edinboro'? \Yell, 




THE OLD FARM. 



child, when that was signed my father was a child in his 
mother's arms. "When my parents Avere young they were 
of those who went by night to the conventicles, to worship 
God in the glens and forests; their friends were the good 
men who were hunted and killed like beasts on the mount- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 29 

ains; and when I was a child they oft carried me with 
them. I wish I could remember those times. Popish 
James fled over seas when I was sixteen, and I stood 
with my father and mother and elder brothers all day in 
the High Street of Edinboro' waiting to hear the decision 
of the convention upon the claims of James and William 
to the throne. I can remember, child, the great crowd in 
the street, and how children were set npon their fathers' 
shoulders to keep them from being crushed by the crowd. 
And then I remember a shout, that seemed to shake the 
very skies ; and I saw my mother and other women crying 
and waving handkerchiefs, and heard my father and 
brothers cheering, and I saw the crowd divide, and the 
great nobles and the Lord Provost and the heralds passing 
along High Street. Ah, child, it was a grand sight, and a 
proclamation of liberty to the captive, and opening of 
prison to them that had been bound, and the coming of 
the acceptable year of the Lord. I would I had been a 
little older then, and able better to help on the good time, 
or old enough to go to London and get a look at William, 
of glorious and immortal memory!" 

"But, grandfather," I said, "suppose that convention 
had decided in favor of King James ? " 

"The Western Covenanters were there," said grand- 
father, " and they would have risen to a man and led Scot- 
land to religious liberty. Wonder it is that they saw the 
murderer of the saints, Dundee, daily in the streets and 
withheld their hands; it was God's grace in them. My 
own father had an account to settle with him, for he 
killed father's only brother; but he left it to be reckoned 



30 P^ TBIOT AND TOR Y: 

for at God's bar, and that is well : it is written, ' Vengeance 
is mine, I will repay, saitli the Lord.' " 

" But, grandfather," I said again, " very many of the 
Scots were loyal to the Stuarts. I have read that Scotland 
was their hope and stronghold." 

" Yes, child," said grandfather, " many Scots were loyal, 
to their own destruction, to the Stuarts — loyal to them 
rather than to God. But, child, my fathers Avere of a 
race who knew no loyalty to a king who was not loyal to 
God. We honor the king in the ways of righteousness. 
Kings are set to defend the liberty of subjects, and to lead 
nations in holiness and justice; and when they fail there 
they forfeit the crown. It was thus the Scottish Estates 
decided in the convention I told ye of" 

" People could be loyal but to few kings, grandfather," 
I said, "if only to such as you describe. Dame Mercy 
Warren said yesterday that kings generally supposed the 
people were made for them." 

" Na, na," said grandfather, "kings are made for the 
people. The Princes of Orange have always held that 
doctrine." 

" It is a pity, grandfather," said I, " that you Scotchmen 
had to go to Holland to find kings with right views. You 
have been unlucky in your kings, have you not?" 

" Well, ray girl," grandfather said, " belike it was to set 
our allegiance dboon all earthly princes, and fix our hearts 
on King Jesus. I have often thought of they old days 
when Jehovah alone was king over Israel, and I have 
wished that here in this new country such a government 
could be set up, with no king but Christ." 



0^'E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 31 

Grandfather had come out to see if great-grandfather 
were not tired of being under the apple-tree, and he said 
to this, " The world is too corrupt for that, father. If we 
had no king here we would have some other form of gov- 
ernment tainted with human evil and avarice — the few 
strong lording it over the many weak." 

And just here we heard a laugh, and that clear voice of 
Dame Warren, crying out, "But, sir, it would be as your 
cousin wrote us from London, that Sir Robert AValpole said 
we would 'be taxed more agreeably to our constitution 
and laws.^ We might more peacefully endure our own 
errors in government than other people's." 

Grandfather shook his head. I suppose all ministers 

should feel as he does. He quoted the Psalmist, " I am for 

peace ; but when I speak they are for war." He then took 

great-grandfather's arm to help him to the house, and Dame 

Warren stopped to take the cushion and mat. She said to 

me, "Why so grave, Abbey — what troubles you?" I 

laughed, it seemed so foolish ; but I can always speak to 

Dame Mercy Warren. I said, " It seems to me so quiet 

out here ; life is as still as a mill-pond. We have only the 

change from the white snow that falls in winter, to the 

pink snow from the apple-trees in spring, and the brown 

snow of the dead leaves in' autumn. My great-grandfather 

has been telling me about times when he was young, when 

great events happened, and even girls and children had a 

part in them, and there was something worth living for. I 

would like my life to be not like the mill-pond, but like 

Cape Cod Bay out here — sometimes bright and shiny with 

the sun, and sometimes wild and stirring and strono-, as 
3 



32 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

when the storms are out and the waves beat against the 
coast ! " Then Dame Warren looked earnestly at me for a 
moment, standing there ; she was under the apple-tree, with 
the wolf-skin robe over her arms and grandmother's braided 
mat in her hand, and she said, " Child, if you were out on 
our bay in a storm you would wish for the mill-pond. So 
in the stir of war you may come to long for peace. Your 
great-grandfather lived in days that were wonderful and 
troubled and mighty in result, but you may live in days 
that are greater still." 

I hardly knew what she meant, but I went on with my 
own thoughts. " And I can not get grandfather to tell 
me all about those days, nor how he felt and talked. I 
wish he had spent part of his time in writing a story for 

" So Dame AVarren laughed again, and said, " Child, tlie 
story of each generation will be history to those that come 
after. Do you in your leisure hours write a book of your 
days, and what you say and do, for there may be greater 
days than you imagine." 

I replied, " Oh, I have written of my days often, and it 
is such silly stuff: ' The blue-birds are building their nest. 
The robins have hatched their young. The apples are ripe ; 
and now the winter storms are all along the coast !'" 

" Keep on," said Dame Warren, " and the little song about 
the birds may grow into the greater poem : the tragedy, 
as Shakespeare wrote, of life and death, and heart-break ; 
or the story of a Milton, how angels fell from heaven." 

Just then out came grandmother, crying, " Dame 
Warren! come in, will you, and have a c — some supper!" 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 33 

I know why grandmother stopped. We had no tea. We 
used the last a week ago. Grandfather has scruples about 
using smuggled tea, for he says it comes like the water from 
the well of Bethlehem to David — at the risk of men's lives ; 
and he will not use the taxed tea, for he thinks the tax is 
wrong. 

May 13, 1773. 

Last night as we were sitting by the door in the twilight 
I was thinking of great-grandfather, and all the wonderful 
changes that he could remember, and I said to grand- 
mother : " I wonder how he came to live so long." 

"Because he was godly, child," says she; "godliness is 
the best thing for preserving life that I know of." 

"But were not my father and mother godly?" I said, 
" and they died young ; and so did my mother's mother, 
and so shall I." 

" Why, how is this ? " said grandfather ; " what is my 
little girl talking about? Your father, my child, died not 
in the course of nature, but in strife with the Indians in 
Pontiac's War. Your mother was born in England, and our 
climate in America doubtless shortened the lives of her 
mother and herself. But you are in your native land, and 
are not likely to be injured by causes which affected them. 
My little girl must not be melancholy. You are, perhaps, 
too much with grown people, and we are dull company. 
You must have y6ung companions." 

Grandmother said that there were few young folks near 
us, and she did not believe in girls running about. 

" Then," said grandfather, patting my head, " I must 
cheer you up with a present. Once you could be made to 



34 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 

rejoice at a wooden doll or a ginger-bread horse; but you 
are too old for that now. What shall I give you?" 

I said I wished he would give me some paper — a great 
deal of paper — so that I could put down all that I saw or 
heard. Grandmother said paper cost too much money to 
be used in recording nonsense. But grandfather said it 
was never nonsense to make people happier. Then he 
Avent to his desk and took out the package of paper which 
Deacon Dana brought him last month from Boston, and he 
gave me half of it. I think he is a very good grandfather ! 
When I bid him good-night — it was almost eight o'clock, 
a little later than common — he said : " Cheer up and be 
hearty, my little Abbey. I have no doubt that you will 
live to be a grandmother" — but, of course, that is quite 
impossible. This morning as soon as it was light I rose, 
so that I could iron my white apron, which I am to wear 
with my new calico dress this evening when our friends 
come from Philadelphia. One has to be dressed pretty well 
to see people from such great cities. 

Before I had heated the irons sufficiently, my grand- 
mother beckoned me into the pantry, and said to me : 
"Abbey, your great-grandfather says nothing, but I know 
he is pining after his tea. A man of his age can not go 
v>-itliout what he has been accustomed to without being- 
hurt l)y it. I promised your grandfather that I would buy 
no tea when ours was gone, as I must get either taxed or 
smuggled, and both alike evil. Now I want you to run 
to the field for a horse, and before the others are up, ride 
over to Mrs. Brown's and tell her that I should like to 
make her a present of my red scarf from India, if she has 



ONE HUNDRED YEABS AGO. 35 

a mind to make me a present of a package of tea for grand- 
father's use, and that the flavor of the tea will be better the 
less I know about where it came from." 

"It is sure to be smuggled or taxed/' I said. 

" Taxed or smuggled/' said grandmother, " the rest of us 
will have only hot water in our cups ; but the good old man 
shall not die for a spoonful of tea, while I can help it." 

Dear me ! I thought grandmother would die rather than 
ask a favor of Mrs. Brown, and that she would be cut in 
pieces rather than give up the India scarf which her only 
broth'cr brouG:ht her the vovag-e before he was drowned. 
Well, grandmother is a very good woman, for all she is so 
sharp sometimes. 

I ran out to the lot and caught old Maple, and put a 
halter on him, and with grandmother's big calico pocket 
hung at my waist, to carry the scarf and bring back the 
tea, off I went a flittle after sunrise, and it was as nice a 
morning ride as ever I had. As I rode along, I saw our 
neighbors out in the fields planting corn. Dame Warren 
said to me the other day that I might live in as great times 
as the old grandfather did; but it takes heroes to make great 
times, and these men do not look like heroes, only like 
every-day fathers, and uncles and cousins. It seems to me 
that the Covenanters of the Avest country, who stood in 
Edinboro' ready to fight or die, must some way have looked 
larger and grander than these men, out in the dewy fields 
with the early sunlight shining on their home-braided straw 
hats, Avith blue home-spun shirts, and gray home-spun 
trousers, and stockings knit of black yarn, and heavy shoes, 
all mud, and planting-bags hung at their waists. No one 



36 P-i TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

need tell me; heroes are dead, and I live a long while too 
late, and all the men that do wonderful deeds, and that 
history is written about, are born no more, unless among 
the lords and ladies and counts and princes, in the old 
world. I shall never let Dame Warren see that line. 
As I passed Isaiah Hooper he was out in his field, and 
he called to me to ask if all was well; he thought old 
grandfather might be poorly, and that perhaps I went 
for the doctor. Isaiah Hooper is an every-day sort of 
man ; he only thinks of plowing, and planting, and crops, 
and on Sundays of the sermon, though I believe he thinks 
of religion all the time, for he said he should come to see 
our srrandfather on his birthday, and that a hoary head 
was a crown of glory if found in the way of righteous- 
ness. Then he told me he hoped the Lord would send 
heavy crops, for there might, before long, be fewer men 
to till the soil, and he added there was a promise of 
swords being turned into plowshares, l)ut that was far 
away ; and he thought that first the plowshares would 
be turned into swords. 

I was sorry when I reached ]\Iistress Brown's. She 
examined every inch of the scarf, as if grandmother 
would cheat her; and oh! how little tea she gave for 
such a scarf! I took pains to tell her that only great- 
grandfather would use the bohea, and that he quite forgot 
each day the controversy upon the tax. Said Mistress 
Brown : 

" If it -were not for folk like your grand'-ther and 
grandmother there would be an end to this trouble about 
tea and taxes and all that. I don't see how reasonable 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 37 

folk with money in hand will sit and drink hyperion 
or go abont in homespnn. How many yards did your 
mother spin last year?" 

Mistress Brown's little black eyes do vex me so. They 
bore into one just like a gimlet when she asks a question. 

"She spins all we use," I said. 

Then she told how Mistress Partridge had woven three 
coverlids and four hundred yards of cloth this year past. 

"And how much did you say your people use in a 
year?" says Mistress Brown. 

"All that grandmother spins," I told her, and made 
haste to get back to old Maple, who was biting the fence 
rails as if they were INIistress Brown. I was home by 
breakfast-time, and great-grandfather had his tea. Grand- 
father sniffed and smelled at the table ; he caught the fra- 
grance of that cup of bohea. I handed him my cup, and 
there were only raspberry leaves in that, and then grand- 
mother smiled and held out hers. He came to the pantry 
after breakfast and said he hoped we had not })een buy- 
ing any tea. Grandmother told him no, and then con- 
cluded to let him know how she had traded the scarf. 
He shook his head a little doubtfully, but I think she 
did right. 

We had dinner at eleven, and then grandmother put 
on her dark-red flowered satin gown with the Brussels 
lace in the neck and sleeves; she had it when she was 
married, thirty years ago, to grandfather ; being his second 
wife, she is only ten years older than my father Avas, 
who was grandfather's only child. When grandmother is 
dressed in her satin gown with the string of gold beads 



38 P^i TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

about her neck, and her pin of garnets and diamonds, 
I think she looks very handsome. Great-grandfather 
wore his damask gown; grandmother has taken out the 
silk lining and put squirrels' skins in instead. She made 
me a Sunday pelisse out of the silk. I think my grand- 
father is the best looking man near here. He wore the 
broadcloth coat and breeches that came, ten years past, 
from London, and a round velvet cap instead of his wig. 
Grandmother had enibroided his vest, and his ruffles were 
nearly a quarter of a yard deep. 

But then our company came. Uncle John Temple and 
Uncle Matthew Temple ; and with them a friend of my 
Uncle John — Mr. Seaforth. Mr. Seaforth wore his wig 
powdered, and gathered behind in a black-silk bag; but 
my uncles had theirs in a long queue, with a bow of black 
ribbon. Mr. Seaforth looked very splendid. His coat 
and breeches were of blue velvet; his vest was swans- 
down in buff stripes; and he had carbuncles set in his 
knee-buckles. My uncles wore brown cloth and figured 
satin vests. They had big pearl buttons on their clothes, 
such as I never saw before. James Warren, and Dame 
Mercy, and Deacon Dana, and Isaiah Hooper, and some 
others, came early, and we had supper at five, and drank 
great-grandfather's health in a big bowl of punch, out 
of the bowl that came from London. They talked about 
the cities, and Mr. Seaforth said that he paid thirty shil- 
lings for a ticket to a ball ; and LTnclc John said that his 
friend John Livingstone, of New York, merchant, told 
him it cost a thousand dollars to live there in good style. 
I do not know what we shall do if thino;s become so ex- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 39 

pensive. After supper we still sat at the table. I sup- 
pose grandmother would have sent me away, only grand- 
father kept me by him. The talk was all about the state 
of a fall's. 

May 14, 1773. 

I could not put down yesterday all that was said at the 
table about affairs in this country. I found that there 
were many opinions on the question of what we should 
do. My uncles, and INIr. Warren, and Dame Mercy are 
all agreed, but Mr. Seaforth says he will hold to the 
mother country to the last breath; and grandfather fears 
we shall be too hasty and not count the cost. James 
Warren, and the Dame, and my two uncles are for a 
republic, while Deacon Dana and Isaiah Hooper are look- 
ing for a Cromwell of the Colonies, and some think we 
shall find him in the Adamses, or in Otis, aiid others in 
Patrick Henry. I can not remember how the political 
talk began, but Isaiah Hooper said to my Uncle John 
Temple : 

"What are you doing in Pennsylvania?" 

And both my uncles struck the table hard and said, in 
a breath : 

" We are preparing for tear ! " 

Grandfather said : " INIy brothers, no man goeth wisely 
to war unless first he sitteth down and countetli the cost." 

"The balance of cost would be in our favor," said Mr. 
Warren. "We would fight for our own hearths and fami- 
lies, in sight of them! And the king's troops would be in 
a foreign land. We could fight for a principle to a man; 
but tlie hearts of many of the royal troops would be with 



40 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

US, and many more would be indiiferent. Again, we 
should be in the midst of our supplies, and the king must 
send clothes, and food, and pay, three thousand miles over 
sea. Chances are for us, minister." 

" It was not that cost which I meant," said grandfather. 
" We should, if we went to war, be arrayed against our 
own blood. Wherever victory went, victory would be 
clad in mourning because brothers on either side had been 
slain by brothers. We should be armed against our best 
friends, for however the British Government may treat us, 
we know that that Government has never adequately rep- 
resented the people, and the great heart of the Commons 
is with us ; then we must turn against our best defenders, 
as Burke, and Walpole, and Pitt, and Barre." 

" You touch the very root of controversy," said James 
Warren. " You say the Government has never adequately 
represented the Commons of England ; how can it, then, 
represent the Commons of America? We are all Com- 
mons here. We have a diiferent nationalty, different 
objects, a diiferent future; and we are to be governed by 
men who can not understand us, our country, or our 
future ; men who have no sympathy with our feelings, 
no desire for our advancement ; men for the most part 
totally opposed to the principles whereon our Colonies 
are founded. The Home Government is trying to keep a 
full-grown giant in swaddling-bands and leading-strings. 
Whatever we owed England we paid long ago." 

" I admit all the misconception, all the arrogance, all 
the obstinacy that is charged on His Majesty's Govern- 
ment," said my grandfather. But I see in Britain the 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 41 

great champion nation of Protestantism and education, 
and I look with horror on a war between ourselves and 
the one nation knit to us by blood, by religion, by all 
our past history. I fear that when vcq and England are 
weakened by a long, fierce war we shall be seized in our 
exhaustion and overcome by mutual foes, and that popery 
will regain its prestige by our strife. 

"We must leave those distant results with God," said 
Uncle John. " I believe that we shall conquer a peace 
which shall be lasting, and end in mutual respect. Re- 
leased from those leading-strings which Mr. Warren spoke 
of, we shall become desirable and worthy allies of Eng- 
land, and shall present a solid front of opposition to super- 
stition and despotism. After the affairs of the Gaspe 
and the Boston Massacre, and after such iniquitous legis- 
lation as gave us the Writs of Assistance, and the Stamp 
Act, and the contempt of our chartered rights of trial in 
our own country, what recourse have the " Sons of Lib- 
erty" but M-ar? What pledge have we that, unrepresented 
as we are in the Government, and toys of foreigners' 
will, we shall not find some day a re-enactment of Charles 
Second's wild charter, and ourselves and our heirs con- 
demned to be ' leet men forever f ' " 

"We take our stand on this," said Uncle Matthew 
Temple: "No taxation without representation! If tuxes 
are a fovor bestowed by British Commons on the King, 
why are they a tril)ute demanded and wrested nolens voleus 
from the American Commons?" 

"The fact is," said Mercy Warren, "the Colonies have 
grown into a powerful and distinct nation, and the mother 



42 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

country does not know it, nor are we half conscious of it 
ourselves. The ties that held our grand-parents to Eng- 
land hold us to this land of our birth. Three millions of 
people, a country unlimited in resources and of almost in- 
calculable extent, and an army of two hundred thousand 
men, can not be treated as a mere handful of slaves, gov- 
erned by foreigners, taxed by foreigners, legislated for by 
foreigners. The need and ability of self-government are 
in us." 

"Madame," said Mr. Seaforth, "it pains me deeply to 
hear you call the English foreigners. They are our kins- 
men in the flesh and our brethren in the Church." 

" That is all true," said Dame Warren, " and yet, to all 
intents and purposes of government, they are foreigners, 
just as the French and Germans are." 

" I hope and pray," said grandfather, " that England 
will yet be brought to a right mind in these matters, and 
that to us of the Colonies will be given a spirit of peace 
and conciliation, and that riot and bitterness will be un- 
known." 

" Sirs," said Isaiah Hooper, " we have lost faith in Eng- 
land, and in the promises of our king. New England is 
as keen of wit as Old England. Why are British soldiers 
left here ? To coerce us ! Let us meet distrust with dis- 
trust. Why was Boston blockaded in time of peace? We 
asked of our fatherland bread, and we have been given a 
stone. We see that a North can succeed to a Chatham. 
If we would be well governed let us govern ourselves ! 
Our future wealth will lie in trade, and in trade we are 
limited and hindered. We are to have no market but 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 43 

England, purchase no goods but from England. Let us 
break loose from England, and the world will be our 
market ! " 

"Sir," cried Mr. Seaforth, "you do not speak for us 
all — not for me. I may have lost some faith in the wis- 
dom of my king, but I have not lost my loyalty. His 
Majesty may not be doing all the part of a beneficent 
sovereign, but that will not clear me from doing all my 
duty as a subject. Two wrongs, sir, will not make a 
right. I believe that if there is any erring in our king, it 
is in his head and not in his heart. He may be mistaken; 
he is not corrupt. Do you feel sure that in rejecting the 
present government we should make a good exchange? 
The English Parliament has been for centuries the world's 
noblest exponent of government, and what improvement 
on that will be an unlettered mob? If we cut ourselves 
loose from England, our future government may be led, 
as was the Boston mob of 1770, by a mulatto, whose only 
advantage was muscle. I, sir, come of a family which 
survived the persecutions in the Wealden of Kent, and 
came out of them loyal, although we had members who 
perished at the stake. Men may err, but monarchy is 
divine. The history of the world shows that monarchy is 
the only fit and stable form of government." 

" For my part," said Uncle Matthew, " I hold that this 
is the proper land of free speech, and I honor the man 
who speaks out his honest mind. I respect your opinions, 
though I do not .share them. Virginia, sir, goes with 
Pennsylvania and Massachusetts. All the Colonies are a 
unit, though in all thcro are many honorable men of your 



44 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



mind, whom we regret do not think with us. I was in the 
House of Burgesses in Virginia when Patrick Henry cried, 
' Csesar had his Brutus, Charles his Cromwell, and George 

the Third — may 
profit by their 
examples!' Ah, 
sirs, all our 
hearts went with 
him." 

"It is true," 
said Mr. Sea- 
forth,"thatCffi- 
sar had a Bru- 
tus, but — the 
Romans raised 
a pillar to Cse- 
sar, inscribed 
'To the flither 
of his country;' and after him came Augustus. Charles 
had a Cromwell ; but after Cromwell a second Charles. 
What did it profit ? ' The powers that be are ordained 
of God.' True, primarily they are ordained for a terror 
to evil doers, and a praise to them that do well ; and 
frequently they come short of this, but that does not 
release subjects from duty nor justify anarchy and regi- 
cide. David's cause was righteous, but he would not lift 
up his hand against the Lord's anointed, nor u-'ill J/" 

There was a silence all around the table. Then Uncle 
John reached over and shook Mr. Seaforth's hand. 
He said : 




PATRICK HENRY. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 45 

" Old friend, here is the bitterness of civil war : that 
brothers in heart, like yon and I, find their consciences 
placing- them on different sides of a qnestion. Yet, 
Harry, however politics may divide ns, personally you 
and I will be David and Jonathan, as we have ever 
been. I shall never forget that when I and mine lay 
as dying from yellow fever, you stood by us night and 
day. 'Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love 
of woman.'" 

Mr. Seaforth shook my great-uncle's hand heartily, 
saying : 

" Xor shall I forget that you, John, risked once your 
whole fortune to save mine." 

Dame Warren wiped her eyes, quite secretly, and 
grandmother looked away for several minutes. Then 
great-grandfather stood up, and taking his velvet cap 
off his bald head, lifted both hands to heaven and said : 

"Thou, Lord, dost know that from a child I have 
lived in wars; but now am I very old. Bring out t? 
these controversies the advancement of Thy holy king- 
dom ; and if wars must come, let Thy servant be taken 
to Thee before that evil day when the brother shall de- 
liver the brother to death, and the father the child." 

After supper the day was so fair that the company 
M-ent on the porch before the door. I stopped to help 
grandmother; but she said I was in her way, and that 
Pompey and Xervey were all the help she needed, so I 
went with the rest, and found ^Iv. Seaforth taking a 
brighter view, and saying that the London merchants 
would never i)ermit war, fur that the Colonies owed 



46 



PATRIOT ASn TORY 



them five millions of pounds, and that trade with the 
Colonies was their greatest source of wealth ; therefore, 
all their influence would be for a recognition of Colonial 

rights and 
for peace. He 
appealed to 
great-grand- 
father, but 
he shook his 
head, saying: 
"God has 
given me a 
century to 
w a t c h the 
progress of 
ideas, and I 
see plainly 
that as this 
nation w a s 
jilanted in a 
spirit of in- 
depend e n c e 
and self-gov- 
e r n m e n t — 
on the idea 
o f popular 

privileges and restriction of royal prerogative, it will 
carry on its views of national and chartered rights to 
the entire independence of the Colonies." 




THE THIRTEEN COLONIES. 



0^'E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 47 



CHAPTER III. 

May 21, 1773. 
TT took me one or two days to write all the talk about 
politics ; and indeed I carried my paper once or twice 
to grandfather, to see if I had it quite right. I wanted 
to put something solid in my journal. That day after 
dinner Dame Warren said to me: 

"You are a good listener and a close observer, Abbey. 
Are you putting down what goes on day by day?" 

I blushed quite red as I was obliged to answer: 

"Yes, Madam Warren. But — oh, dear! — it is all about 
dress, and so on." 

She laughed, saying: 

"Well, even our dress may be historic. Keep on. 
Abbey. Perhaps I shall write a history of these days, 
and who knows but I may come to your journal for in- 
formation ! " 

She never will. The idea of Dame Warren, forty-five 

years old, and so very wise, ever asking information of 

little Abbey Temple ! However, I shall put down all the 

great things that I hear; and this talk among our guests 

is better than all that about their clothes. Grandmother 

is fearful that I spend too much time with books and 

paper. She says that I do not spin and knit and weave 

enough. Now that we are pledged not to use English 
4 



48 • PATRIOT AND TORY: 

goods, we women and girls must supply our own mar- 
kets, and grandmother has been talking with my uncles, 
and she, and Isaiah Hooper's wife, and other women of 
grandfather's congregation, are going to weave quantities 
of blankets. I wish they would not. I hate to spin. 
When I am walking up and down in that long garret, 
by the wheel, how I envy every spider that is making 
a web out of doors, and all the birds, and all the 
boats — tiny specks, dancing far out on the Bay. But 
there is no use of saying any thing if grandmother has 
once made up her mind. However, there has been no 
time for spinning and weaving while our guests have 
been with us. On the day after grandfather's birth-day 
I went out quite soon after breakfast with my knitting 
to the apple-tree; and I sat so deeply thinking that I 
noticed no one near until a bunch of leaves hit my 
cheek; then looking up I saw in the boughs Thomas 
Otis, a far-oif cousin of Dame Warren's, who is passing 
the Spring at her house. Thomas had been sent by the 
dame to say that we should all take our supper with her 
on the morrow. I went with Thomas to speak with 
grandmother, and then he said he was to stop all day. 
Thomas is the only young person who comes here, except 
the two small children of Isaiah Hooper, and Hannah, 
the daughter of Deacon Dana. I do not love Hannah 
very greatly, for she feels older than my great-grand- 
father, and always watches for opportunity to reprove 
me. 

Grandmother would not permit so dreadful a creature 
as a boy to be around for a moment did he belong to 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 49 

any less a person than Dame Warren. Thomas is so 
funny; he pretended that he thought grandmother was 
very pleased to have him come stay. He offered to help 
her get the vegetables ready for dinner; and he made 
Pompey and Nervey laugh so much by telling what the 
boys did in school at Hartford that grandmother said 
we had better go off somewhere. I seldom get a 
chance to go out of the house-yard except to church. 
We went to the fields to see the sheep. The flock is 
now getting quite numerous; for, as the Assembly have 
recommended that Ave use no sheep for meat, but keep 
all for wool, we are raising more lambs. We then went 
off to the coast. The mile seemed very short, we en- 
joyed the walk so much. We rowed out on the Bay 
and fished, and when we came in-shore we caught three 
lobsters on the rocks and took them home for Mr. Sea- 
forth, who is fond of such things. When we got home 
dinner was cleared away, for grandmother says a table 
should never be kept waiting for young folk. We would 
have gone hungry after our long walk, but for Nervey. 
She said to us: 

"You chilluns run see ef dem pesky hens nebber laid 
nuffin to-day up de mow." 

She rolled her eyes so funny at me that I pulled 
Tom's sleeve, and off we went. We climed up the mow, 
and there was the nicest place made, and a clean cloth 
spread, and a dish of fried chicken, custard pies, and 
biscuits. My, they tasted good! And out of the win- 
dow where the sun came in we could look over to the 
porch of the house; and there sat grandmother knitting, 



50 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

with her head held very high, thinking, I dare say, what 
a good lesson on punctuality she had given us children. 
We did not talk very loud, but Thomas told me how, 
if there is a war, he shall go, and how he will fight and 
never fly, and rush into battle shouting " Victory or 
death ! " I think it is horrid to be a girl and able only 
to stay at home and spin. Thomas said he never should 
forget me, and when he went to war I was to give him 
a lock of my hair, and if he was found dead on the 
field it would be with that in his hand ; and I might be 
sure about it, for he never would take any lock of hair 
but mine. He stood uj^on the mow (after he had eaten 
all the dinner), and was just showing how he would or- 
der the British troops to surrender, when he stepped 
too fir over and fell into old Maple's stall below with 
such a crack that he broke the manger. AVe then went 
into the orchard, and Thomas put me up a swing. 
Grandmother was especially vexed about that when she 
knew it. She said that I was not half womanly enough, 
and that she knew not wliatever would become of me. Mr. 
Seaforth took my part a little. He is such a gentleman ! 
He said that his wife thought it not well for little girls 
to grow up too soon, but liked for them to get health 
and good spirits in their young days. 

"As the twig is bent the tree is inclined," quoth 
grandmother; "and if we would have women we must 
have womanly little girls. The world would soon go a 
begging for lack of such women as Dame AVarren." 

"Forsooth, so it has always," said Uncle John, "there 
are not many like Mistress Mercy AVarren, nor many 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 51 

men to match such women; for the most part the worki 
is made of poorer stuff than the Otis family." 

The next morning, after worship, while Xervey and 
Pompey were bringing in breakfast, they spoke of going 
to Mr. Warren's, and lo ! grandmother said I was to stop 
at home. " She did not favor girls gadding about." Oh, 
I felt like crying, yet was ashamed; still the cry rose in 
my throat and made a great noise therein. I sat behind 
great-grandfather. He has his second sight and second 
hearing too; and he caught the sound I made in my 
throat striving not to cry, so he said. 

" Na, na, my daughter, it is nae gadding aboot to go wi' 
her forbears like we, to see the dame. Let the lassie go ; 
she is fit company for an auld man like me." 

Sometimes great-grandfather talks very broad Scotch. 
So grandmother said : 

" If you want her along, father, that is another thing. 
Children should ever pleasure their parents." 

Great-grandfather said to me softly : 

"The grandmother does not remember what pleases a 
child, because she is old, yet not old enough for second 
childhood, like me. Come with us then the day, lassie. 
You will be lonely enough when the old man is taken 
away. But dinna greet, lassie, I '11 speak a w^ord for you 
to the grandfather before I go home." Then, as if he 
feared I would think hard of grandmother, he said: ^'But 
the grandmother is a woman among a thousand, and has 
a heart of gold." He would say so all the more if he 
knew about the scarf and the tea; but I dare not tell. 

"We had a very nice day at Dame Warren's, and there 



52 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



was much talk about the mother country, and all wishing 
for peace and just views, but my uncles and the Warrens, 
doubting that the Parliament and the King would yield 
the claimed right of taxing, and would put us all on the 
same footing as people at home — I mean in England. 

Mr. Seaforth stopped till after Sunday to hear grand- 
father preach. Mr. Seaforth goes to Mr. Duche's church 




grandfather's church. 



in Philadelphia, but says he likes to hear Mr. Wither- 
spoon preach, and he liked grandfather. The text was: 
"Thou hast trodden down all them that err from Thy 
statutes;" and the subject was: "The law of God con- 
tained in the Scriptures indispensable to the prosperity 
and perpetuity of a nation." Grandfather always expects 
me to give him text, subject, and heads of all the sermons 
on Sunday. When he has twelve or fourteen heads it is 
very troublesome to remember them all; but Sunday he 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 53 

did not have so many, and it was easy to remember, for 
all that he said was so very good. Grandfather said that 
the foundations of this country were laid on the Bible as 
a corner-stone; that our Pilgrim Fathers came here to be 
able to worship God in freedom of conscience, enlight- 
ened by His Word. He said that only by adhering 
closely to Bible principles could we be able to have a 
clear path and an honorable record in the troubled times 
we are entering; that only as we held to the teachings of 
the Bible could we expect the blessing of God; and that 
if we cut loose from the Bible we would fall into an- 
archy and be a mob of desperadoes, and not a nation of 
patriots. He said there was no true patriotism except in 
Bible Christianity. All that was called patriotism in ir- 
religion was selfishness and private ambition. He said 
the Bible must be the Instructor of our children, the guide 
of our youth, the staff of old age, the law of lawgivers, 
and the rule of rulers, and that it must be first in the pul- 
pit, first in the school, first in legislation ; and if it ceased 
to be that, infidelity, and superstition, and party corrup- 
tion would destroy the land. If w^e yielded one jot of the 
prestige of the Bible, or in the least despised its claim as 
the man of our counsel and the protector of our liberties, 
then we would be ungrateful to God, who had led us in 
this New World's wilderness, recreant to the teachings and 
example of our fathers, and forfeit our future prosperity. 
Every body said it was a very good sermon. But what 
else could my grandfather preach? 

Mr. Seaforth went to Boston on Monday. He has busi- 
ness there. Also, my uncles left for Cambridge, but will 



54 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 

be back again before they return home. Before they left 
they all went to great-grandfather to say good-bye, and 
they asked him for his blessing. It was a very solemn 
sight I thought — those three gray-haired men (I would 
call them old anywhere but by great-grandfather,) bend- 
ing their heads for his blessing. They are tall men 
enough, but great-grandfather was taller — ^he seems almost 
like a giant when he draws himself up — and he rose to his 
full height, and spread out his hands, and said, like old 
Jacob : " God, who fed me all my life long until this day, 
the angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads, 
and let them grow to a multitude in the midst of the 
earth." From that great distance of his century, my 
great-grandfather looks at all of us as about of one age, 
I think. I am sure he talks with me just as Avith the 
others. 

JcNE, 1773. 

One day goes by exactly like another. I have my les- 
sons with grandfather, and Nervey, our black Avoman, 
teaches me to cook and bake. I am raising forty chick- 
ens, and I work in my garden every day. Pompey made 
me a border for flowers Avhen he made the vegetable 
garden, and I have marigolds and sweet-pea, hollyhocks, 
and pinks, and violets. The rose-trees that climb on the 
front porch are all in blossom; the bees are very busy, 
and Pompey has braided four new straAv hives. The blue- 
birds have hatched their young, and a lovely wood-pigeon 
has made a nest in the apple-tree, and sits all day with her 
pretty little brown head rising out of her rough nest. 

Great-grandfather likes more than ever to sit talking to 



OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 55 

me under the apple-tree, and that gets me free of many an 
hour's spinning. I see a change in his talk. He tells 
more and more about his early days. Yesterday he told 
me all about the battle of Bothwell Bridge, at which his 
father was present; and about Aird's Moss, where his 
cousin was killed beside Hichard Cameron. He told me 
also about the repeating of the Sanquhar Declaration, 
when James Second came to the throne; and about Mrs. 
Mitchell, whose husband was executed for his religion; 
and as he told of one and another who fought and died, 
and of the pitiful defeats, out of which came final victory, 
and described the little band of Covenanters advancing 
boldly to meet great hosts of enemies, his voice rose; and 
when he pictured the charge at Bothwell he sprang up like 
a strong young man, and caught oif his velvet cap (which he 
will call his bonnet) and waved it over his bald head, and 
shouted: "Christ's Crown and Covenant!" so loudly that 
it brought grandmother to the door, and the dove, dis- 
turbed, lifted her pretty head with a soft "coo." So all 
the time, while grandfather is describing to me those days 
of dread : the field of battle, with the crash of guns, the 
clash of sword on sword, the shouts, the cries, the groans, 
and the awful night coming down over the dying and the 
dead — beside this talk runs the soft monotone of the 
brooding dove, and the sharp "chipper" of the little blue- 
birds, waiting to be fed. I wonder if, when war is in the 
land, and the sun is shining on such fields of blood, and 
great events are taking place, there can run along by the 
wild tide of war the calm stream of home lives, and daily 



56 -P^l TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

duties, and the quiet toils of women, and the plays of 
little children? 

June 20, 1773. 

To-day we had a letter from Cousin Bessie Warley, of 
Boston, and a package of newspapers. The Massachusetts 
Spy and the Boston Gazette had letters from Mr. Quincy 
and Dr. Warren, and the Widow Draper's paper, the 
News-Letter, had more of what grandfather calls gossip. 
The papers gave us the Whig views, and Cousin Bessie's 
letter the other side. Cousin Bessie is the only child of 
grandmother's youngest sister. Her mother is dead, but 
her father is living, and she is with him in Boston. My 
grandmother never liked Mr. Warley, for she thinks him 
a sly, unscrupulous man. This farm where we live be- 
longs to grandmother, and will go to Bessie, as the only 
one left of that family. Grandmother loves Bessie, but 
she does not take any comfort in her. Bessie hates the 
Whigs; she never gets done talking about the wicked riot 
in '65, M'lien Governor Hutchinson's house was burned, on 
the Xorth Square, in Boston. That was a shameful work, 
but grandmother says there are evil men and evil deeds in 
all causes, even in the best; and moreover, things would 
not have been so bad if the mob had not been given a 
whole barrel of rum — the drink, given to satisfy, only 
made them more fierce. I shall never forget what Deacon 
Dana said, not long since, when grandmother said that 
drink would make our soldiers demons rather than patri- 
ots, and that rum in the mouth put reason from the head 
and religion from the heart. Said the Deacon: 

"Aye, aye! royalty, rum and Bome are like to be the 



OXE HUXDrjCD YEARS AGO. 57 

ruin of this country, and we and our children for many- 
generations are certain to see sore fight with them." 

Well, in that riot Mr. Warley's roof got on fire and his 
windows were broken, because his house was near tht 
Governor's. She ridicules the Boston " Daughters of Lib- 
erty," with their spinning, song-singing and liyperion- 
drinking, and says that the reverend gentlemen. Cooper 
and ISIayhew, are only fit for hanging. (My grandfather 
says those divines are somewhat hasty of counsel.) Cousin 
Bessie ended her letter by saying that she was to come to 
stop with us for two months. She is seventeen, three 
years older than I am. I am glad that she is coming. 

June 26, 1773. 

Cousin Bessie came to-day. She came to Plymouth by 
coach, and Isaiah Hooper being in with his wagon brought 
her here. She had a trunk covered with cow-skin with 
the hair on, and set with large brass nails. It is the 
biggest and handsomest trunk I ever saw. Cousin Bessie 
wore a green cloth dress with a hoop, and a beaver hat 
with a plume half a yard long. Her shoes had high red 
heels and pointed toes, and, altogether, I never saw a 
young lady so gay; she is gay as my grandmother in her 
very best, which she only puts on once or twice a year. 
Cousin Bessie traveled with a matron of Plymouth; but 
two British officers were in the coach, and she talked of 
them much, in a manner that frightened me, and for 
which grandmother at last reproved her sharply; but Bes- 
sie laughed, and said she would marry one day a British 
officer, and he would be knighted for reducing these rebel- 
lious Colonies to submission, and then she would go to 



58 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

London, and be presented at Court, and live a lady. It 
quite took away my breath to think of any one whom I 
know doino; such wonderful thing^s ! Cousin Bessie is not 
one bit afraid of grandmother. She will not spin, but she 
knits lace stockings and mittens for herself; and she works 
worsteds and embroiders ruffles — not for her father, but 
to give to some officers in Boston. 

July 2. 
Grandmother keeps me at all my duties, I think, closer 
than ever, by way of setting example to Bessie. This 
morning: we heard that Mistress Brown's child is not like 
to live, and so grandmother went to her for the day. She 
left me a large task of spinning, and since Bessie could not 
spin, she bade her reel. As soon as grandmother was 
gone Cousin Bessie came to the garret, but not to reel. I 
set open all the windows and began my work. Bees and 
butterflies swung in and out on the sunbeams, and I 
walked up and doAvn by my wheel. Bessie went for some 
flowers and dressed my hair, and tied a ribbon on my 
neck; then she trimmed herself all up with flowers and 
true-love knots. I do not deny that she looked very 
pretty. And then she got out three pictures of gentlemen, 
who, she said, were her lovers, and she said she liked one 
with a sword best of all. She read me some verses another 
one (a student at Cambridge) wrote to her. They praised 
her eyebrows, " arched like Cupid's bow ; " and I told her 
that was evidently not true, for her eyebrows are quite 
straight ; and she was vexed and said nobody wanted love 
verses to be true, so they sounded well. But I should 
want them to be true. For instance, if Thomas Otis wrote 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 59 




' She read about the Lady Clementina, Harriet Byron, and Sir Charles Grandison." 



60 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

me verses I would not thank him to call my eyes blue, 
because they are not blue, but gray. 

Then Bessie went and brought a book to read. She 
read a long time, all about the Lady Clementina, Harriet 
Byron and Sir Charles Grandison. I thought it beautiful 
at first, until I found it was a novel. Grandmother has 
told me that novels are dreadful books, inspired by the 
Evil One. And this, to be sure, was very bewildering — 
all about love and marriage, and various things which 
girls should not think of. Grandfather gave me "Thomp- 
son's Seasons" for my birthday. I think it very nice, and 
I read it for hours underneath the apple-tree, or on the 
hay-mow. However, Bessie would read on, until she was 
as hoarse as a crow; and we both agreed that we would 
never, never marry a man not as perfect as Sir Charles; 
but Bessie says all the British officers are just as good; 
and I know James Otis, whom Mr. Adams called "a flame 
of fire," is just as noble — and — all the Otis family are 
alike. After dinner I returned to my spinning, and Bes- 
sie went to our room. Presently she came up to me, and 
I fairly held my breath to look at her. Her hair was in 
scrolls, powdered white. She had a gauze head-dress a 
foot high, and a blue satin trained gown, with a cream- 
colored satin petticoat. She had a gauze kerchief on her 
neck, and her arms were in long embroidered gloves. So 
dressed she made me a curtesy — like those made in Court, 
she assured me ; and danced me a minuet. She offered to 
teach me, but I feared grandfather's roof might fall as it 
■vvas — with novels' and dancing under it. Then off went 
Bessie, and came back in a peach-colored brocade, with a 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 61 

white petticoat and wide hoop, and a lace kerchief, and a 
fan from Paris. She stood so in the sunshine, telling me 
what compliments were paid her in the winter, when she 
went to the Governor's ball in this dress; and I stood by 
my wheel, forgetting to spin, and feeling very shabby in 
my unpowdered hair, my home-spun dress and linen apron 
of grandmother's bleaching, when lo! there stood grand- 
mother in the door. I was dreadfully frightened, but Bes- 
sie laughed and swept a curtesy, saying: 

" So I shall look when I am presented to His Gracious 
Majesty the King of England." 

Grandmother said sternly : 

" You look fitter for such a court than to appear before 
the King of Heaven. Go lay off those trappings, child, 
and do not strive to pervert Abbey with your nonsense. 
The land will be ruined for want of good, plain-hearted 
women. I feel sure of it." 

July 26, 1773. 

Whatever is going to happen ! I am at Dame War- 
ren's, to stay for two weeks! How it came about I 
never could tell, only, the evening before last grand- 
mother put my silk pelisse, my straw hat, and my nan- 
keen gown in a box, and bid me wear my calico dress 
next day, for I was to go on a visit to Dame Warren's. 
Cousin Bessie smuggled me in a pair of gloves, a muslin 
neck-kerchief, and a ribbon. At Dame Warren's I found 
Doctor Joseph Warren, one of the Sons of Liberty, and 
a member of the Assembly. Mr. James Otis was there — 
a little better than usual, though never to get well. How 
awful it was of that vile man to beat him on the head in 



62 PATRIOT AND TOBY: . 

that coifee-house, and spoil what my grandfather says 
was the finest brain in America ! He talked in Latin 
with Doctor Warren. There was a thunder-storm a few 
days ago, and he said he always asked God to let him die 
by lightning. Thomas Otis was there too, and also a 
Mr. Kichard Reid, a graduate of Harvard College — a 
very grave man, who was studying for the ministry, but 
has left it to busy himself in politics, feeling that the 
country will soon need her young men for soldiers; and 
so he is captain among the Minute Men, and spends 
much time drilling his company. He knows Israel Put- 
nam, and has visited him on his farm. 

It was here at Dame Warren's house that, in 1764, the 
idea of a General Convention of delegates from the Assem- 
blies of the Colonies originated. The Dame's father and 
brother were visiting her, and together they thought of 
this plan. It is always the same here; all the talk is of 
great plans, and of preserving our liberties. At home I 
suppose the same idea is in grandmother's heart, but she 
says nothing — only spins, and knits, and weaves more 
than ever. I said something of the kind to Dame War- 
ren, and she replied: 

"Oh, child, no amount of talking will do our soldiers 
so much good when war comes as your grandmother's 
big warm blankets and thick socks." 

Mr. Kichard Reid was sitting near; he seldom says very 
much, but now he did venture to open his mouth ; and he 
remarked that while it was the part of men to go forth, 
arms in hand, and give perhaps their lives for their 
country, it was the part of women to send them forth 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 63 

cheerfully, and to provide for them food and clothes, and 
keep up their hearts with good words. This was woman's 
proper work, and they who undervalued that were not 
likely to do any patriotic work at all — and he looked 
quite savagely at me. I replied quickly that I only got 
my ideas from the Bible, being allowed to read few other 
books, and that therein I found war and women but sel- 
dom mentioned together, and when they were so men- 
tioned it was to show Deborah leading an army, and Jael 
driving a nail into a tyrant's head. 

Dame Warren laughed heartily at my spirit, and 
Thomas said he was glad I answered so smartly. 

" What right," said Thomas, " has he to be sitting by 
you and talking all the time?" 

So I think. 

In the evening we got on well, for we sat by the harp- 
sichord singing the "Massachusetts Song of Liberty," 
written by Mrs. ^yerran. Richard Reid hath a very fine 
voice. We all came out loudly on the chorus: 

"In freedom we're born, and like sons of the brave 
Will never surrender 
But swear to defend her. 
And scorn to survive if unable to save." 

Dame Warren also read to us in the evening some of 
her dramas and poetry. She has many books from Eng- 
land, and I have been reading some in the "Feiry 
Queen," "Chaucer" and "Dryden;" also in "Shakes- 
peare," which I doubt my grandmother would quite ap- 
prove, at my age. This afternoon Thomas invited me 
out to the Ijarn for something that was going on there. 



64 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

We found the floor swept, and bundles of hay for seats, 
and some dozen lads from Plymouth prepared to act 
Dame Warren's drama of " The Group." I never was at 
a theater, of course; but Thomas says he went once in 
Boston — boys go to such fearful places — and he assured me 
that this is exactly like. I am glad I know, for I always 
had a vast curiosity about it; and I suppose my grand- 
father would not object to my seeing in the barn how a 
play is done. A number of the maidens and children of 
the neighborhood came to see. Thomas had a sheet for 
a curtain, and some boards laid over barrels for a stage. 
They had also a drum, a cow-horn, and a big conch-shell 
in the orchestra, whereon some little herd boys played; 
also a pine-tree flag, and a big scroll with the "Colony 
snake" and " Unite or die" upon it. This was the scenery 
of the play, and very appropriate, Thomas said. All 
Avent well, except once the curtain fell — and generally it 
would not draw^ — and the lad who acted Brigadier Hate- 
all — who means Timothy Ruggles — stamped so hard that 
he broke his end of the platform, and fell into a barrel. 
However, they played beautifully, flourishing swords, and 
making a terrible noise, and we all clapped, making so 
much ado that Richard Reid came in, and sitting by me said 
that making theatrical representations of such awful things 
as war and rupture between kindred countries was ill-ad- 
vised. Quoth I, " the play is the Dame's," and sure enough 
beside us stood the Dame who had come in unperceived. " Is 
it so?" said Mr. Reid; "Well, good friend, if you would 
write a treatise on nursing the wounded, and on the proper 
stores to send to camp, and on the danger of rum-drink- 



ONE HUNDBED YEARS AGO. 65 

ing to our soldiers, and the duty of mothers and maids at 
home to provide things needful, and to urge the men to 
temperance while on duty, I fancy you would be giving 
us what we much need. Here Thomas came out and an- 
nounced that he had an address to deliver, and rather 
roughly bid Richard Reid "be quiet." Then he made a 
very good speech — at least it had a deal of noise, and ges- 
ture, and big words in it; and he made us all laugh in 
speaking of the change in the ministry in the mother 
country, and twisting Shakespeare : 

" Now is the Summer of our vast content, 
Made grievous Winter by this Lord of North." 

Richard Reid went off after this and was gone until bed- 
time. Thomas told me that it was understood that Mr. 
Brown and his wife are opposed to the Colonies, and are 
saying and doing what they can against the "Minute 
INIen " and the " Sons of Liberty," and that Mr. Reid went 
to warn them to do no evil, if they were not of a mind 
to do good. The next day I was greatly surprised to 
see Cousin Bessie riding up to the gate of Mrs. AYar- 
ren's house. I knew not that she had been invited here, 
and indeed I do not think that she had. She was very 
lively and pleasant, said she missed me, and that she de- 
sired to see so famous a woman as Dame Warren in her 
own house; in truth, she was so delightful that she was 
made welcome. Mr. Reid seemed much struck with her, 
and as he came in he asked me who that beautiful girl 
was. I heard him also say that it must be the same lovely 
creature whom he met riding away from Mistress Brown's 



QQ PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

last evening. " Yes/' said Thomas, who hates Bessie for 
hating the Colonies, "I dare say. Birds of a feather flock 
together." 

" Fie," replied Mr. Reid ; " no doubt her errand was the 
same as mine, with a diflerence. I went to threaten them 
for disloyalty. She doubtless went to entreat to loyalty." 

"Aye, to the King," said Thomas Otis. 

Richard Reid looked vexed and went to talk to Bessie. 
All that she said fascinated him. I thought her so un- 
maidenly that I blushed, and the Dame shook her head; 
nevertheless Bessie sang, very sweetly, "Where the bee 
sucks, there lurk I;" also, " There eternal Summer dwells," 
from Com us. Richard Reid, who reproved me for want- 
ing higher work than spinning, and all of us for that drama 
in the barn, heard Bessie singing love-songs and saying 
how she hated all work except embroidering ruffles and 
making rosewater; and the more she jested the better 
pleased he was. I think men are such deceitful creatures ! 
Even when Bessie said she was for the King, and that the 
Colonies M'ould be beaten if they fought, and that they 
were a mob of boors compared to the British army, he 
would believe that she only talked so to draw him out 
and give him a chance to defend the patriots. It made 
me think of Job — "When I laughed on them, they be- 
lieved it not." 

Mrs. Warren was not half pleased, and we all retired 
about eight o'clock. When we were in our room Bes- 
sie told me she spent the previous day with Mrs. Brown. 
By some ill luck grandmother sent her, a fortnight past, 
to Mistress Brown with herbs for the sick child, which 



OSE HUSDRED YEARS AGO. 67 

is recovering, and from a similarity of sentiments they 
got up an intimacy, and as a result Bessie went off to 
spend the day. 

" But grandmother must have disapproved," I cried, as- 
tonished. 

"Pooh! I could not help that," said Bessie. "How 
can she be so very inconsistent? She demands liberty for 
the Colonies, and that they should judge for themselves, 
and not be hindered of their rights; and yet she would 
refuse me liberty, and not permit me to judge for myself, 
and Avould hinder me of my right to choose my own com- 
pany. Your grandmother has very few jewels, and con- 
sistency is one of those that she lacks. Am I not as 
good as the Colonies? Have I no rights, no liberties, 
no judgment? Truly, I shall free myself of the yoke; 
and, as a testimony, oiF I went to see Mistress B.; not 
that she is congenial : her shoes are of cowhide, and she 
is given to devouring onions. I went to vindicate j^rin- 
ciple. ^yell, as I was about to return home, and galloping 
along in my best hat, I met this INIr. Reid, and the bump- 
kin gazed as if I were an angel or a sweet-cake. I saw 
that he had fallen in love with me, and I stopped to ask 
a cow-boy about him, and heard that he was here. For 
this I came here to-night." 

"Wliy, Bessie," I cried, "you pretended never to have 
seen him, and not to know visitors were here." 

"Goodness, child! that is company manners," she said. 

"But it is not truth!'' I protested. 

"Bless the baby — not to know that truth does not go 
in good society," said Bessie. Then she went on: "I am 



68 FATBIOT AND TORY: 

wholly devoted to doing good, and I felt that to fall in 
love with me and enjoy my society would refine and civ- 
ilize this country fellow and make a man of him." 

" Why, Bessie "VVarley !" I said, " he graduated at Har- 
vard, and has studied for the ministry, and is Captain of 
Minute Men, and knows Israel Putnam !" 

"All of which proves him a Colonial lubber, unused to 
and unfit for good society," said Bessie. "However, I 
will improve him." 

Bessie soon fell asleep, but I lay awake pondering her 
motive. Was she secretly attracted by this Richard Reid, 
who is a marvelous handsome man? or, did she simply 
want amusement such as she has in Boston ? or, does she 
want to use her power in drawing away one patriot from 
the cause of the Colonies? She shall not do that. But 
if she just makes fun of him I shall not mind. How dare 
he speak like a teacher to me ! Only, after all, I would be 
sorry to see a Tory like Bessie making a fool of a Whig, 
and a friend of Putnam. 

Bessie was not urged to stay with the Dame, but she 
did remain three days. The first day there was a meeting 
of the Sons of Liberty in a field a mile from James War- 
ren's, and Ave all went to hear the speaking. They sang 
the Dame's song, and pledged themselves to dispute Brit- 
ish right of taxation, and to demand continuance of char- 
ter, and trial at home by jury. The women had brought 
cider and baskets of cake; and they fired a cannon when 
the meeting ended. I never heard a cannon before. Bes- 
sie made no end of fun of the speaking, and of the home- 
spun dress, and said the Colonies were all playing Shake- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 69 

speare's drama of " Much Ado About Nothing." The next 
day a hundred Minute Men were to be drilled on a farm 
ten miles north of us, and we rose at four o'clock, and 
Thomas took Bessie and me and some other young folks 
to see. Richard Reid had gone olf at three o'clock on 
horseback. We took baskets of provisions, and had enough 
to eat ourselves and share with some of the men ; so did 
others, and all feasted. On the way home Bessie ridiculed 
the clothes and the poor guns and the awkwardness of the 
militia, and said they would run from the sight of the 
red-coats, and that such plowmen could not Avithstand 
British discipline. I think she made Richard Reid angry. 
He told her that of these very plowmen heroes would be 
made who would live in fame so long as the world stood ; 
that God would be with these men who fought for a prin- 
ciple, as He was with Gideon's three hundred ; and he told 
her the days were like to come when Britain would admit 
that the Colonies were doing the best thing for her, the 
world and themselves, and would be as proud of these 
rough-clad, honest, manly souls as we ourselves. He said 
little to Bessie after that, and the next day she Avent back 
to grandmother. 

ArcrsT 30, 1773. 
Bessie has gone home to Boston. She worried grand- 
mother dreadfully by refusing to spin, by visiting Mistress 
Brown, and by talking about lovers. Bessie says if the 
Colonies fight, when they are beaten Government will take 
away rebel's property, and then we will see that she and 
her father were on the safe side, and we will be indebted 
to her for a home. She will find that grandmother and I 



70 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

can earn a home by our own hands if it comes to that ; and 
we are working for a principle, not property. Sometimes 
I love and admire Bessie ; other times I can not endure 
her. Grandmother says all her faults arise from having 
no mother since she was ten years old ; but I have heard 
that her mother — grandmother's younger sister by many 
years — was a very foolish woman. Nervey told me so. I 
miss Bessie ; but it is well for me that she has gone. I am 
so weak-minded I do not stand by what I know to be 
right. I let Bessie read to me all that dreadful novel, and 
another beside ; and she taught me to walk a minuet. AVe 
took occasion for these things when I had hurried through 
my spinning in the big garret. Certainly it was very 
wicked, but I find it so dull here when I can do nothing 
but spin ; and grandmother will not let me outside of the 
yard lest I get "gadding habits." It has been a busy 
summer — fruit and grain plenty, a heavy fleece at shearing- 
time. Pompey catching and curing many fish, and grand- 
mother making mucli yarn, and drying bushels of fruits. 
We are to cure much bacon, and make more cider than 
usual. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 71 



CHAPTER IV. 

September, 1773. 
rPHE country is in a most troubled state. Letters from 
Dr. Franklin, from England, are very discouraging. 
The Doctor sent to Rev. INIr. Cooper, of Boston, some 
letters that have turned the people more than ever against 
Governor Hutchinson, and it is thought he must leave the 
Colony. Josiah Quincey has been through all the Colonies 
conversing with the leading men, and he finds they are all 
of a mind ; to stand together and resist oppression. It is 
said that the East India Company has seventeen millions 
of pounds of tea in store, and are pressing the Government 
to remove the tax. I thought that would make it all right; 
but yesterday I heard James "SVarren and grandfather 
saying that it was not the tax, which is small, but the 
principle of the thing, that was cause of contention. 
The question is: has Britain a right to tax the Colonics 
without their consent — to make laws for them without 
consulting the Colonies? Americans say no, generally; 
but some, like, Mr. Seaforth, hold that this is a less evil 
than war; that rebellion, even to an earthly government, 
is as the sin of witchcraft; and that if we are patient more 
and more, enlightened counsels will prevail./ I know more 
about these questions than I did, on account of great grand- 
father. \There is a strange change in him lately; his body 



72 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

grows weaker, but his mind seems to get stronger and 
stronger; he takes even more interest than before in public 
affairs. I have to read all the papers to him, and all the 
letters that come to us or that Dame AYarren sends over, 
and these must be read many times, so that I have come to 
know how affairs stand. 

My uncle Matthew writes from Virginia that Governor 
Dunmore is not popular ojicially, though personally well 
treated, and great changes are talked over in the Apollo 
Room of Raleigh Tavern. Uncle John writes that Penn- 
sylvania is resolved to stand by the Colonial cause; and 
the leading men, as Morris, and Witherspoon, and others, 
are great patriots. They are resolved to import nothing 
from England, and have constant meetings of the friends 
of liberty. Grandfather says this can not long continue; 
our land of harvests and minerals, lumber and harbors, 
was made for commerce, and we must have imports and 
exports, and it can not long be that we will be content 
merely with refusing English articles; trade we must have. 

News has come from South Carolina that they have a 
Vigilance Committee, and meet at Charleston under a tree, 
called, like that at Boston, " Liberty Tree." Gadsden and 
Samuel Priolean, and Pinkney, are of the leaders there. 
In Georgia there is a strong Royalist party of very worthy, 
honest men, and there is also trouble from the Indians ; so 
that the " Sons of Liberty " have much ado to hold their 
own. The Presbyterians in the hill districts are very 
strongly in favor of breaking with the mother country, and 
having here a Republic. sj 

I read all these things to great grandfather, and we talk 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 73 

of them hour after hour — not under the apple-tree now. 
The birds are gone, the leaves are falling, the apples are 
gathered, and grandfather, feeling the chill of autumn and 
the chill of age, sits mostly by the wood-fire in the common 
room, and I usually sit near him, because he likes it, and 
lest he might need something. 

Great-grandfather has been in this country seventy-five 
years; usually he has spoken without any Scotch accent; 
indeed, he has been thought a very able and eloquent man ; 
but when he talked to children, or in tenderness, he fell 
back on the old Scotch phrases. But now he uses that way 
of speaking more than formerly; grandmother sometimes 
shakes her head when she hears him. The other evening 
several of the neighbors came in, the Danas, and Isaiah 
Hooper, and after much talk they all seemed to think that 
this country would divide from England. Said grand- 
father, " it is to this separation that our history points ; for 
this end were we planted and thus far nurtured, but the 
day is coming when the child grown to man's estate must 
set up his own household." Then they talked much of 
how this would be accomplished, y Grandfather hopes for 
a peaceable parting, but no one thinks that possible. 
Grandfather said that if to set up a separate nation here 
meant to always be enemies of England, allies of her foes, 
haters of her government, and watching for her ruin, then 
he hoped there would not be a separate nation, for it is ill 
for children to despise their fathers, and for nations to 
hate their ancestors, and it is from the old country that we 
get our sturdy race and our ideas of freedom, and all our 
education in liberty until to-day. 



74 ATBIOT AND TOBY: 

Deacon Dana says lasting enmity is impossible. A little 
bitterness may trouble us for a time ; but our language, our 
traditions, our kinship, our similar institutions will bind 
us together closer tlian other peoples. A 

Isaiah Hooper said that the feeling between us and the 
old country, after we became independent, would be like 
that between Deacon Dana and his sou. The Deacon said 
that Joseph was rash and vain and overgrown, and that 
his pride would go before a fall; but secretly he thought 
Joseph a remarkably smart and well-grown lad, and re- 
joiced in his prosperity, though he felt it his duty as a 
father to snub him betimes. Joseph declares that his fa- 
ther is behind the age, is too sharp with him, is opinion- 
ated to a degree; but Joseph is privately very proud of 
his parentage, thinks the Dana family the best in the 
world, and boasts aside of his father's industry and good 
judgment. 

AVe all laughed at that. Then great-grandfather began 
to speak very earnestly. ' He seemed to take the separation 
of these Colonies from the mother country as a thing al- 
ready finished, although hardly any one ventures to speak 
clearly of it. He then went on to speak of the dangers 
of America. He spoke of party feeling and political strife, 
and personal envy, and he feared the desire of power and 
gain would corruj)t our leaders, so that instead of a mon- 
arch, hedged round by a Constitution, we would have a 
venal mob at the head of affairs. Immigration would 
bring to us the worst men of many lands, despisers of the 
Bible and the Sabbath; the idea of liberty was in danger 
of beintr carried too far: toleration would he shown where 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 75 

toleration was a crime against God, the State and human- 
ity — there were some things, said grandfather, that were 
not to be tolerated : clerical dominion and intemperance 
were of them. The spirit of Romanism drove our ances- 
tors from the old country, said great-grandfather, and if 
j^ermitted it will follow us here, and like a cuckoo in the 
nest, will drive us all out. " You may talk," said great- 
grandfather, " of extent and resources, and commerce, and 
allies, of patriotism and education, and all that, but if 
there is a Republic in this country, it will only last so 
long as it is God-honoring, as God's glory is compromised 
with it, and would suffer loss, if the nation that trusted 
and served Him should perish. But if this country for- 
gets God, holds His day. His name. His Book, lightly, 
then it Mill begin to die just in proportion as it is so cor- 
rupted, and the greater its glory, the more terrible its fall ; 
the only hope for America is in the Church of Christ." 

Grandfather held up his head, lifted his hands, his eyes 
flamed, his face was bright, and his voice strong. Our 
neighbors said it was quite equal to his best day. They 
were all so taken up with what he said, that it was nearly 
nine o'clock before they left; a wonderfully late hour for 
us, though Bessie told me she often staid up so late as 
that. I said to grandmother next morning: "I am almost 
ready to think our grandfather a prophet, he speaks with 
such power." But she said : " Child, people have been 
supposed to be gifted with the spirit of prophecy, merely 
because they were close students of their times, and of 
God's word, and so discovered whcreunto things would 
grow, which meant nothing to other people. Of such 



76 PA TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

were good Bishop Usher and noble John Knox, and cer- 
tain of the Covenanters, as Welsh, and Brown, and others." 
I do not wonder that Dame Warren calls my grandmother 
"a woman of much judgment." 

September 28, 1773. 

Isaiah Hooper brought us a rumor from Boston of news 
from England that shij^s are on their way here with tea. 
Lord North has removed the duties on all other articles, 
but holds to this on tea as a token to the Colonies that 
they must submit to the mother country. Meanwhile they 
favor the East India Company so that the tea can be 
offered here at a low price, and so they expect to tempt 
the Colonies to buy. I wish tea had never been heard of; 
but grandmother says that is folly : the question of right 
lay between us, and if there had been no tea some other 
thing would call it up. As Isaiah Hooper says, " it is the 
principle, not the pence," we are standing about. How- 
ever, Boston vows not to receive the tea, and so also 
Charleston, Savannah, Philadelphia, and other ports. In 
all these things great-grandfather sees God's hand, and 
seems to know the end as if he stood in the light of 
heaven. I said to grandmother to-day: 

''Do you believe in second sight?" 

" Be sure I do," says she. " Your great-grandfather 
sees better than he did twenty years gone." 

" But it is not second sight of the body I mean," I said, 
"but of the mind. I mean Scotch second sight that 
knows the future — the taisch, that tells of death; the 
wraith—." 

"Nonsense, child!" cried grandmother; "you read too 



ONE HUNDRED YEABS AGO. 77 

much folly in your grandfather's study — poetry, and the 
like. It is my opinion that a girl of your age should read 
nought but her Bible, ' Pilgrim's Progress,' a cook-book, 
and possibly, ' Hervey' s Meditations Among the Tombs, 
until she has reached an age too discreet to be beguiled 
with fancies. Hannah Dana reads nothing else than these." 

" "Well, grandmother," I said, " our Puritan fathers be- 
lieved in some of these supernatural things, and — and I be- 
lieve great-grandfather holds to them a little ; and I feel 
very afraid that he has had a summons — he's not like he 
was, grandmother," and I began to cry. Grandmother was 
mixing bread; she looked puzzled. 

"AVell, of all things! Having had no children of my 
own, I was glad you were a girl, for me to bring up; but, 
Abbey, you are as perplexing as a boy. I doubt not 
youv'e been in the house too much, and are nervous, and 
nerves I can't abide." So she called to Pompey, and bid 
him put a saddle on old Maple, and said I was to ride 
over to Deacon Dana's to spend the day and cheer me up. 
I dared not say I did not like Hannah Dana, so oflf' I 
went. Hannah gave me a new pattern for patchwork, and 
taught me a new stitch in knitting. She wore all home- 
made clothes, and says she shall wear no other until the 
Colonies get their rights. She told me — I think in confi- 
dence, at least I shall not mention it — that if there was 
Avar she should go to the army. I asked her, would she 
carry a gun; she said mayhap — at least she was now 
learning of Joseph to load and fire, and that women 
would be needed to cook, and nurse, and help, and she 
should go. I came home liking Hannah Dana better 



78 PA TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

She is stern, sharp, rude, and harsh, jierhaps — she caught 
their black boy torturing a mouse with matches, and she 
made no ado, but held him by the collar and thrashed 
him soundly — but she is true and strong, and I like 
people strong of heart, and mind, and body. To be a 
day with Hannah Dana made me feel as if I had been a 
day by the sea, or on the mountain-tops. I wish I could 
find a woman so strong, and with so deep a heart, and yet 
one who was gracious, like an angel, and fair to look 
upon. 

October 10, 1773. 

The harvests are all gathered, and Pompey and I have 
been for quantities of nuts; the cider is made, and the 
wheels are brought down now to the common room. The 
winter clothes are all cut out, and the shoemaker has 
been here and made us all shoes for winter. Grand- 
mother is like the notable woman in Proverbs — " She is 
not afraid of the snow for her household, for all her 
household are clothed in scarlet." Ours is blue, and 
gray, and black, mostly; but grandfather says that "scar- 
let" referred more to warmth and goodness of quality 
than to color. I think sometimes if I could paint, I 
would paint our common room in the evening. There is 
the big fire-place, where Pompey piles logs of wood, and 
on one side great-grandfather in his high oaken chair, 
with a })laid, which he brought from Scotland, thrown 
about his shoulders, and his white hair coming from 
under his close black-velvet cap. Before great-grand- 
father's feet lie our cat and dog; near great-gran dfiither I 
sit knitting; in front of the center of the fire is a table 



ONE IIUy'DRED YEARS AGO. 



79 



with some books, and grandfather in his dark, damask 
gown, his round cap, and his gold-bowed spectacles, al- 
ways reading. On the further side of the table is grand- 
mother, at her 
wheel; she sits 
so straight, her 
eyes are so 
bright, and the 
linen kerchief 
on her neck is 
so fine and 
snowy that I of- 
ten think she | 
would look as 
well in a pict- 
ure as Cousin 
Bessie. Beyond 
grandmother, in 
the further side 
of the fire-place, 
is a settle, paint- !^k:^ 
ed blue, and 
there sit our 

three black people — Pompey, Xervey, and their boy, 
Peter; Peter nearest the corner. I never heard of such 
a boy as Peter; he must always have his head or liis 
feet about into the fire. Peter is always making wooden 
bowls, plates, pudding-sticks, or something of that sort. 
Pompey sits mendhig farm tools, or the colored people's 

shoes, or the harness, and Xcrvev alwavs knits or sews 
6 




" roJirF.V AXD I rJATHERIN'C. NUTS.' 



so 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



for the three, so we are constantly employed, and indeed 
very happy. Sometimes grandfather reads aloud, or great- 
grandfather tells some of his tales ; and Pompey, too, has 
odd stories, which he ventures to relate if he gets a little 
encouragement. We usually have a can of cider heating 
on the hob, and a row of apples set to roast. Thus it is 
from five to eight. Then we have prayers, and go to bed. 

October 30, 1773. 
The towns in everv direction are holdino- meetimrs, and 
appointing committees, and sending messages to each 

other, encouraging 
to stand by the Co- 
lonial cause. Sam- 
uel Adams is here 
the leading spirit. 
James Warren is at 
the head of the 
movement in Ply- 
mouth; but he is 
very greatly dis- 
couraged — it dis- 
tresses him to think 
of civil war — of war 
with our relatives 
over seas, as we 
may say — and of sending his sons forth to be soldiers. 
Samuel Adams w^rote to him the other day : " If there is 
a spark of patriotic fire we will enkindle it." Mr. War- 
ren brought the letter to read to grandfather, and he said 
grandfather must preach a sermon especially to the men 




SAMUEL ADAMS. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 81 

capable of bearing arms. Grandfather agreed to do so. 
Mr. James Otis is just now in a sad state ; often nothing 
Avill quiet him but Dame Mercy's voice. There is much 
suspicion against Mr. Brown and his wife. A Royalist 
like Mr. Seaforth, who is such from principle, who would 
fiive his life for the cause which he believes to be right- 
eons, and whom no bribe could buy, I can love and re- 
spect ; but these Browns are folk of another strain ; they 
hold to the royal side because they think that side will 
win the day, and that they will be paid for adhering to 
it. They arc spies on their neighbors, and volunteer to 
the Hutchinson men the information which they steal, 
and then ask pay for service which they have offered un- 
requested. The BroAvns are lazy, and their farm is ill- 
kept; but they expect to get rich out of their neighbors. 
Mistress Brown met me going into Deacon Dana's lane 
yesterday. 

"A line farm is the Deacons," quoth she, "but his 
children will not inherit it. All your farms about 
here will be confiscated for your rebellious doings, and 
my children will each have choice of them. 

I was very angry. 

" Look you, Mistress Brown," I said, " when the chil- 
dren of those you call rebels are honored for their 
father's patriotism, your cliihlren, instead of farms, will 
only have room for graves, where they shall be forgotten ; 
traitors are not worth remembering." 

" AVhy, you saucy magpie," said she, "when you beg 
a crust at my door you'll not get it, nor your lofty 
grandmother, nor Dame Warren." 



32 PATRIOT ASD TOBY: 

I made no further answer ; and when I told grand- 
father he said I was wrong to say any thing as I did, to 
one so much older. However, the Browns have got into 
trouble, for a letter from them that they sent to post was 
dropped by their servant lad, and being found by one of 
the "Sons of Liberty" it was seen that the Browns were 
sending word to the Governor's party that the Warrens 
and my grandfather and some others were the ruin of 
Plymouth Township, and that there would be no loyalty 
here to the king until they Avere carried to jail. The 
" Sons of Liberty " then sent the Browns word that for 
a like evil deed again, they would be harried out of the 
township. 

November 5, 1773. 

Grandfather has j)reached his sermon to the patriots. 
His text was : " And the people repented them for Ben- 
jamin, because that the Lord had made a breach in the 
tribes of Israel." He showed how civil war is sometimes 
justifiable — is a remedy for evils that can be cured by no 
other means — and is a messenger of righteousness. But 
he also showed the great danger of such war — that it be 
filled with human bitterness — that it may pass from right- 
eous zeal to deadly wrath, and to that vengeance that is 
not for man but for God to execute. He showed, then, 
what might be our full justification for a war with Eng- 
land, but also how we should only look to war when all 
else had failed, and that reasonable and peaceable meas- 
ures should be tried, and that we should cast out all 
malice from among ourselves. Then he bade the pat- 
riots, if war came, to go forth boldly in the name of the 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 83 

Lord, looking for deliverance to the arm of His strength, 
and to be valiant in fight, and gentle in victory, and pa- 
tient in defeat. After the sermon a meeting was called 
at Deacon Dana's for all the -women of the congregation. 
Grandmother Avas at the meeting. She told me that they 
resolved to be on the watch and ready at any moment to 
send snpplies to a camp if war broke out; and that they 
should prepare stores, and cloth, linen, socks and shirts, 
and bottle up home-made wine for the sick, and make up 
their minds to give their sons, brothers, and husbands, 
and their time and property, to the cause of their coun- 
try. Dame Warren came out and made a speech to 
them, and gi'andmother wrote out an account of the 
meeting. 

November 24, 1773. 

The post from Boston came to Plymouth last night. 
We sent Peter for our letters, but he must needs delay at 
every shop-window and blacksmith's door; therefore, 
while Peter was yet gone Dame Warren rode up to our 
gate. She has a letter from Mistress Abigail Adams, and 
she read us part of it. After, while she was speaking to 
my great-grandfather, she allowed me to copy this bit : 

" You, madam, are so sincere a lover of your country, 
and so hearty a mourner in all her misfortunes, that it 
will greatly aggravate your anxiety to hear how she is 
now much oppressed and insulted. The tea — that bane- 
ful weed — is arrived. Great, and, I hope, effectual op- 
position has been made to the landing." 

After Mistress Warren had long been gone, Peter came 
idling back. He had a h'ttcr from Bessie, and some 



84 



PATRIOT AXD TORY: 



newspapers. Tea ! tea ! tea ! is the cry. The papers tell 
of the meeting at Liberty Tree, the address to the con- 
signees, and the adoption of the " Philadelphia Re- 
solves." The pilots have been warned not to bring up 
the ships beyond the Hook, in New York. Bessie writes 
that the foolish Colonists are running their necks into 
a halter; that Franklin is in disgrace abroad; that Gov- 




WINTER AT PLYMOUTH. 



ernor Hutchinson will have his place as Postmaster-Gen- 
eral of the Colonies ; that a number of the ringleaders 
of mischief will be sent to England for sedition ; that 
half the people of Boston are for submission to Govern- 
ment ; and that the patriots are a mob, and that they are 
on the eve of riot, and came near throwing Richard 
Clarke and some others out of their windows the other 
day. The winter is coming on with great bitterness; ^ 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 85 

already we have had deep snows ; and, moreover, it is a 
very evil winter for disease ; fevers are abroad, and 
grandfather is much by the sick. Great-grandfather is 
failing very fast ; he does not now walk much about the 
room, and he scarcely eats any thing. He sits musing 
for Ions' whiles, and then he breaks forth into words of 
how God has led the Church of Scotland through many 
years of trouble and conflict, and then he predicts that 
so these Colonies will be led out of war to lasting peace. 

December 27, 1773. 
It is a long while since I wrote in my journal. I was 
telling last about great-grandfather. He got feebler very 
fast; — no disease, only a sudden breaking up of the life 
that had held out so long. We were much alone. ISIis- 
tress Dana was very ill of a fever; Mr. James Otis was 
worse than usual, and one of Dame AVarren's sons was 
very ill also, and thus Mistress Warren might not come 
to us ; moreover, the roads were almost impassable from 
deep snows. In this trouble, on the 19th of December, 
grandfather was sent for, to go twenty miles back into 
the country, to the funeral of his only sister, married to 
a minister, who has ceased preaching because of feeble 
health. Grandfather thought he would return next day, 
but he was kept to the fifth day by an awful storm, 
which seemed as if it would destroy all Plymouth Town- 
ship. And what did we pass through in that storm ! At 
the very hour of grandfather's going, Pompey must 
needs, in chopping wood, chop his leg, and would have 
bled to death only that grandmother had skill to tie up 
his leg and put a plaster upon it. We saw a change in 



86 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

great-grandfather that evening, and grandmother wished 
much that grandfather had not left us, but expected him 
next day. Next day the okl, good man woukl be phiced 
in his chair, with a stool to his feet and his plaid about 
his shoulders ; and so he sat, saying very little, all day, 
and grandmother close by him, talking now of the 
Saint's Rest (whereof Mr. Baxter wrote so much), and 
again reading from the Bible. At night Peter was to 
stop with his father in their little cabin behind our 
kitchen, but Nervey was to stay in the common room, 
where we were watching by great-grandfather. While I 
helped Nervey wash the dishes she told me how she had 
long seen winding-sheets in the candles, and coffins 
jumping out of the fire, .and asked me if I heard our 
dog howl all last night. I said no, for I am a sound 
sleeper. Nervey told me all these things meant death, 
and she thought there were too many signs for the death 
of one man so old that it was to be expected. As grand- 
father had not come, Nervey felt sure he had perished in 
the snow. I shook like a leaf in the wind, and I felt 
like screaming and crying, but I dared not distui'b great- 
grandfather ; and surely grandmother had her own fears 
and enough to bear. Then that dreadful dog began 
howling. I went and coaxed him, gave him a bit of meat, 
and then beat him ; but still he M'ould howl. After that 
we heard a noise in the house-side, which Nervey said 
was a death-watch. I bid her be quiet, for grandfather 
tells me all these superstitions are wickedness. What I 
cared for was not so much Nervey's talk (but that was 
eerie enough), but the awful thought of my grandfather 



OXE HUSDBED YEARS AGO. 87 

buried under the snow and freezing to death. At last 
Xervcy went and sat on the settle, sighing and shaking 
her liead. The house was terribly still, but the storm 
outside was furious, and so the hours grew on to twelve, 
one, two. I wonder if it is always so cold and solemn 
and ghostly all these long hours when folk are in bed 
and asleep. At two, great-grandfather, who had been 
napping, awoke, quite bright; he took a little wine and 
beef tea, asked the time and after grandfather, and then 
said, very confidently, that no harm had come to him. 
He then desired worship, and asked grandmother to read 
and pray. She woke Nervey and had worship, while I 
sat at great-grandfather's feet, and he laid his hand on 
my head, xifter grandmother had read a Psalm and 
prayed a most strong and wonderful prayer, which seemed 
to me to open the door of heaven and set us all in the 
presence of God, great-grandfather said : 

" I shall this night pass over Jordan." 

Then said grandmother : 

"Dear father, is your soul in perfect peace?" 

He made answer : 

" Aye, aye ! Aft6r a century of living I can say that 
the Lord's way with His people is a good way, and He 
makes all right at last. As to this Jordan, I shall not so 
much as wet the soles of my feet, for Christ, the Ark of 
the Covenant, has gone over before me, and the stream is 
dried." Then he held out his hand to grandmother and 
blessed her, saying : " The Lord recompense thy work, and 
a full reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel." 
And to me he said: "Grow in grace, and in the knowl- 



83 PA TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

edg-e of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." And he 
bade Nervey, as she was a good servant to us, to be a 
good servant to God. Then he fohlcd his hands and 
made a prayer for the nation. Doubtless that caused hhn 
to recall the old days and the scenes of his early life. 
He talked rapidly for some time of his parents and of the 
Covenanters, and their sore troubles, when, after a pause, 
he passed suddenly to speaking a language which I did 
not understand. I wondered if he were already speaking 
the tongue of heaven ; but I thought not that there they 
used so rugged a speech. I looked at my grandmother ; 
she said : 

" It is the twenty-third Psalm, in Gaelic, as he learned 
it at his mother's knee. Behold, he is entering heaven as 
a little child." 

But when he had said this Psalm and the Lord's 
Prayer, strangely he gathered all his strength, and he who 
had been weak as a babe for days, sprang like a strong 
man to his feet, and shouted : " Forward, men of the 
West ! Christ's Crown and Covenant ! " And then he 
sank back in his chair, and with a smile on his face as 
one who had obtained a victory, he went into that city 
where they wear white robes and have palms in their 
hands. That night and the next day, until Peter brought 
us some neighbors about noon, we were alone with 6ur 
dead, and sore was our distress about grandfather. The 
day following we had great-grandfather laid ready for 
burial, when grandfather should come home, and certain 
of the young men of the congregation went to seek him. 
On the morning of the 24th they returned, bringing grand- 



ONE HUNDRED YEAES AGO. 89 

father. A grave had been dug and covered over in our 
church-yard, but the snow had fallen again to a weary 
depth. The funeral set forth about noon, young men on 
horses and Avith ox-teams breaking the way before us, and 
tlie gathering was not large, owing to the sickness and 
storm, and the uncertainty of the time. The storm died 
away, and the sun shone out from behind very glorious 
clouds as they filled up the grave; then we turned and 
■went slowly toward home, buffeting the winds and the 
drifted snow. AVe were well on our road, and were passing 
the higliM^ay toward Plymouth, when a man on a huge, 
wild, plunging horse, came spurring toward us with great 
leaps, in a wonderful manner. He took off his hat, and 
waved, and shouted, while we halted in the road and 
waited for what news he brought. He called out: 

"On the evening of the sixteenth there was in Boston 
a meeting of seven thousand patriots. They took posses- 
sion at night of three ships, and emptied into the bay the 
whole of the tea that had been imported ! " 

AVe heard the news in silence, and without a word we 
went on through the snow for some while. Then Deacon 
Dana said : 

"This is the beginning of very great things. We must 
stand by Boston, come what may." 

Isaiah Hooper said : 

"Xow at last they will know that the Colonies mean 
what they say and have a principle stake." 

But my grandfather said : 

" I see strong reasons to condemn this destroying of 
private property." 



90 PATRIOT A^'D TORY: 

Every one felt as if a very important step had been 
taken, and that henceforth affairs in these Colonies conld 
not move on as thev had before. When onr neighbors 
had taken ns to our home, and grandfather had thanked 
them for helping him to bury his dead, many of them 
turned and rode to Plymouth, to hear the rest of the 
news from the mail-carrier. The next day some of those 
who had been to Plymouth came in to tell the news, and 
on the morrow James Warren came, bringing a letter 
which he had from Samuel xVdams; and from hearing all 
these people talk I gathered what I set down herein of 
this matter. The Boston people wanted to send back the 
tea as it came, and waited nineteen days so to do. The 
captains of the vessels agreed to return to London with 
their lading, but the Custom-house would not clear them, 
nor the governor give them a pass to get by the Castle. 
All this trouble has risen from an evil governor. The 
patriots waited until half-jiast six of the last day's grace. 
In a few hours the tea must pass into the Admiral's 
hands. Governor' Hutchinson gave his final refusal to 
allow it to return. Josiah Quincy then told the meeting 
to consider well what they did, for one step further would 
bring them into such a struggle as this country never saw. 
Then Samuel Adams rose and said : 

" This meeting can do nothing more." 

He meant that the time for submission, for yielding 
principle, had come — or, the time for action ; the hour of 
talk, of resolutions, had gone by. Then an Indian war- 
whoop sounded at the porch of the Old South Church, 
and fifty men and lads, dressed as Indians, passed the 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 91 

door, went to the docks, boarded the three ships, threw 
the three hundred and fifty chests of tea into the bay, 
touched no other particle of -lading, and went silently 
back to the city ; and there was a hush through all Boston 
as if it had been Sabbath. Many people of Boston are 
willing to pay the East India Company for the tea if it 
will be only understood that we have the right to tax our- 
selves, and no one else must tax us. 

January 15, 177-4. 
"We have heard that all the Colonies approve the course 
of Boston. The tea sent to Charleston was landed, but 
put in cellars because there was no one to pay the duty. 
Paul Revere carried the Boston news South. From Phila- 
delphia we hear that the tea ships returned quietly to Eng- 
land. We got a rumor from England that Dr. Franklin 
is being badly treated there. The King and his ministers 
misunderstand us — and no wonder, for we are misrepre- 
sented by such men as Hutchinson, who live among us 
and are supposed to knoAV all about us. We are told that 
munv people in England think that we Colonists are 
black, or Indians, and do not speak English ; that we all 
carry tomahawks, and amuse ourselves by scalping each 
other. Even our King thinks. that in Boston they have 
a regular committee for tarring and feathering people! 
My grandfather says it is such a terrible pity that some 
unguarded acts of "lewd fellows of the baser sort" have 
given a foundation for such ideas, and that the inhu- 
man deeds of the few are charged to us all. So it is, 
grandfather says, we can not do evil for ourselves alone. 
If thev would onlv let our great and noble Franklin — 



92 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

who loves the Colonies and loves the mother country, 
and knows both — act as a peacemaker, then we might all 
be one happy people. But now, doubtless, war must come. 
Grandfather spoke very sadly of it last night. War, he 
said, meant houses and towns burned, husbands, sons and 
brothers slaughtered, widows, families, babes unprotected, 
civilization rolled backward, the demon in the hearts of 
men and women let loose to do deeds that, in days of 
peace they would shudder to think of. And yet war, hor- 
rible as it is, is sometimes needful, like a red-hot iron or a 
physician's knife. Joseph Dana was in here, and he said 
he guessed we'd see the war out by the end of the year; 
but grandfather said for him not to think it; if we fought 
Britain it would be different work from fighting Indians, 
and we would not see the end under two, or more likely 
three, years. Grandmother said that a long war would 
ruin us; but grandfather replied we did not know what 
we could endure until we were put to the test. Our neigh- 
bors were talking of our country last night, in our com- 
mon room, where they often gather. They say by its 
charter Connecticut goes west even to the Pacific, and 
that, wild as are the mountains, deep the rivers, and ter- 
rible the plains of that unknown extent of territory, it 
may some time be explored and its wealth of furs, and 
perhaps minerals, be in our hands. Massachusetts has 
sent emigrants toward the great river, and grandfather 
says if things prosper with us as they have since the Pu- 
ritans landed, in fifty years there will be towns far out 
by Fort Duquesne; and in a hundred years from now 
we doubtless shall have settlers and villages, and also 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 93 

school and churches, so far off even as the banks of the 
Mississippi! This country is capable of having a com- 
merce as great as England, and we may reach a popula- 
tion of ten millions; and for such a country and future, 
and such a groat population, we must provide impregnable 
Constitutions for the Colonies, a firm spirit of union, just 
principles, equitable laws, thorough education, a living 
Christianity, and these we must purchase by our lives, if 
need be. This seems very wonderful to me. Grandfather 
is a very wise man ; but when he talks in this way of the 
future of America it seems more like a dream, or a foirv 
tale, than what will truly be. What ! all those thousands 
of miles of lumber cut down, those hosts of Indians scat- 
tered, millions of miles of roads made, so many millions 
of houses built, great grain-fields where are now swamps 
and thickets — and all in a hundred years! I can not be- 
lieve it. 

February 20, 1774. 
I have been to spend the day at Mistress Dana's. Han- 
nah had a "quilting," and I went early, to take Mistress 
Dana — who is still feeble from her fever — some calve's- 
foot jelly, of my grandmother's making. As Mistress 
Dana does not yet leave her room, I sat with her much 
of the day, that Hannah might be with the quilters in the 
common room. INIistress Dana told me of her carlv life 
in these parts, and more particularly of the young days of 
her mother, when Indians and Avild beasts were plenty 
hereabouts. This good dame knew well certain folk wlio 
had spoken with the Pilgrim Fathers — at least with some 
of the longest survivors of them. Mistress Dana savs 



94 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

that Hannah is like this excellent grandmother, ^vho 
feared nothing but sin, who was as af ower of strength to 
her family and neighbors, a most worthy nurse in all dis- 
eases, and who had been known to shoot a bear and three 
wolves with her own hands. Mistress Dana bid me go to 
a certain drawer in her press and bring a framed silhouette 
from the left-hand corner. I went as she said, but she 
had told me wrong, for when I carried the picture, without 
looking. She said: 

"Ah, that was Hannah's drawer. Carry the picture 
back quickly, and say nothing — that is of Jonas Hooper. 
My mother's is in the drawer above.'' 

After, she told me that Hannah had been betrothed to 
Isaiah Hooper's brother, Jonas, but that the poor young 
man was killed by the falling of a tree on the day before 
that set for the marriage. She said : 

"Hannah takes her trouble in a diiferent mood from 
many. It has shut her up to herself — made her silent 
and stern. She lives now only to do her duty; and I dare 
say she would be thankful any hour to be called out of 
this life, only that she now expects a war, and desires to 
be of some use to her country." 

Poor Hannah Dana! Little did I think she had had 
her history, much more touching to the heart than those 
novels which my Cousin Bessie read to me. Hannah is 
so plain, so sharp, so quiet, I did not think that she had a 
story of her own. Perhaps — it might be possible — that 
Isaiah Hooper might be a hero, or that there are very 
great men living to-day, and that if we had a war it might 
be a war as great and wonderful as those of Greece, or 



OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 95 

Rome, or France, or the Wars of the Roses. I have just 
heard from Dame Warren that Tom Otis ran aAvay from 
his school, dressed as an Indian, and tried to join the "tea- 
party," but was left on the wharf. I think that was very 
bold of Tom. 



CHAPTER V. 



Boston, May 2, 1774. 
T17HAT a long time since I wrote in my journal, and 
how little did I think that I should be writing in 
Boston ! After our cold wdnter, spring came early : in 
April the grass was green along the roadsides, the birds 
were twittering, the flowers sprang up, the farmers were 
busy in their fields. Following our excitement and ex- 
pectation of immediate strife came days of quiet. About 
the 10th of April, Pompey dug my flower-border for me, 
and I went out to set some seeds and roots. While I 
was so busied grandmother called to me from the garret 
Avindow. I w-ent up to her. She was kneeling before 
an oaken chest, which my mother's mother brought from 
England, and on the chest and floor w^ere lying dresses 
and other clothing tliat had been my mother's. I stood 
silent, feeling solemn, and wondering how my mother 
had looked in these gowns. I have very little recol- 
lection of my parents, and have grow'n used to orphan- 
hood; yet frequently I long for a mother of my own. 

Grandmother said : 

7 



96 ATBIOTAND TORY: 

"Abbey, I shall now make up some of these clothes 
for you." 

She laid out a chintz gown, a muslinet figured, a gauze 
kerchief with satin stripes for the neck, a fan, two pairs 
of embroidered gloves, a ribbon for a hat, and blue sati- 
net for a cardinal; also, a silk apron. I was much sur- 
prised at this, and finally I said : 

"I did not know, grandmother, that you thought me 
old enough to wear such clothes; and these are much 
finer than our neighbors have. I fear they might esteem 
me proud, or that I should be gazed at too much in meet- 
ing if I should wear these things." 

Grandmother looked better pleased with me than com- 
monly, for she considered girls very silly, and she replied : 

"That is sensible thinking. Abbey, and gives me hope 
of the stability of your character when you are grown up. 
Before your father went out to the fight in which he was 
killed he wrote to your grandfather that if it pleased God 
to make you an orj)han he wished you to come here. He 
also bid your grandfather educate you with the very best 
of the time, as much like the girls of the old country as 
possible. Your grandfather has taught you well, as much 
as, I think, girls should know — too much books, I think, 
may turn your head. However, the grandfather desires 
you to learn French and drawing, and tapestry-work; 
and, by Dame Warren's advice, the harpsichord; though 
I fear that is dangerous. Our Puritan ancestors esteemed 
that a profane art ; but we are departing from their ways. 
To have masters in these lessons you must go to Boston; 
and as Dame Warren is traveling thither in ten days, you 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 97 

are to go with her, and be put at the house of Doctor 
Cooper, who, though he is hasty of speech, and over- 
zealous for war, is a godly man. You can see Bessie at 
times, but Mr. Warley's house is not a fit home for a' 
child of the Puritans. These clothes will be made ready 
for you to wear in Boston, but I hope you will not be 
carried away by the vanities of this world. Attend to 
your lessons, for your time at them may be short; read 
your Bible and pray every day, and do not neglect the 
house of God. While Mistress Warren is in Boston, 
consult her in all your affairs." 

I do not remember that grandmother had ever said so 
much to me at one time before. I carried the articles 
which she had laid out down stairs, and spent most of the 
day ripping and pressing, under grandmother's orders. 
I felt afraid to go to Boston, among strangers, and 
feared that, as I am so weak and easily led, I might get 
astray and do things which my grandfather would disap- 
prove. Grandfather, I knew, would miss me much; 
grandmother would not. She likes me, but she only 
really loves grandfather; if she has him she is content — 
indeed, she would rather have no one else to disturb them. 
Her whole life is in grandfather. He loves her much — 
as he ought — but his life is wider than hers. He has his 
church, his people, his friends, public affairs, his brothers, 
and even me, to share his thoughts and his heart ; but 
grandmother puts all else aside and has only grandfather. 
Grandfather said often to me while Ave prepared for my 
journey, "I shall miss thee, my good little maid," and 
I fancied it troubled grandmother a little. She never 



98 -P-^ TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

misses any one when he is there, and she desires the 
same feeling in him; but it is grandfather's nature to 
have a heart for many. 

Before I went away grandfather talked long with me 
one day, telling me to read no idle books, to beware of 
choosing Bessie's friends for mine; bidding me praise God 
on the harpsichord and not sing silly songs, and by no 
means to be persuaded to go to the theater. He said I 
was yet a child, and must live as a child, obey my elders, 
go early to bed, rise early, and mind my books. I hope 
I shall do all these things and not disoblige my grand- 
father. 

I traveled with Mistress "Warren and her son, in a 
coach. I slept at Dame Warren's in Plymouth, the night 
before we set forth, and she showed me the beautiful 
card-table which she has Avrought from patterns of real 
flowers, and the dress of rich brocade, embroidered, 
which she wore the day after her wedding. To beguile 
the tedhmi of our journey Mistress Warren read to us 
some of her dramas : '' The Ladies of Castile " and the 
"Sack of Rome." It would be worth while to study 
hard to be as wise as Dame Mercy Warren. 

At last we reached Boston, and I was set down at the 
house of Doctor Cooper. The Doctor is a grave and 
learned man, but much more bitter against the mother 
country, and much more zealous for war, than my grand- 
father. I had no idea how great and wonderful Boston 
would seem to me after living all my life on a farm. 
There are six thousand inhabitants, or thereabouts ; also, 
there is a marvelous maze of streets, houses, shops, ware- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



99 




I travL'led with Dame Warren and her sou in a cuacli. 



100 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

houses, wharves, churches, and a commotion of people fit 
to turn one's head. My grandmother bade me not to 
gad about the streets — she need not have feared, I dare 
not step out alone lest I be run over, or lose my way. 
But Bessie, who has been twice to see me, tells me that 
this feeling is but nonsense, and will wear off betimes. 
Richard Reid has also been to call on me, to make 
inquiries about my grandfather I suppose. Cousin Bessie 
was here when he called, and jested freely with him, not 
to his distaste. He is still drilling Minute-men, and 
Bessie told him that when next news comes from Lon- 
don, and the Government takes it in hand to chastise 
rebellious subjects, all the manual exercise practiced by 
Minute-men will be that of heels. About that coming 
news we are very anxious. We look daily for a ship, 
for the weather of late hath been most propitious for 
sailing. We have heard that in New York, on the 19th 
of last month, a tea ship which had arrived the day 
before was sent home, and eighteen chests of tea found 
on another vessel were cast into the slip. Thus England 
will have more than Boston to deal with. 

Meanwhile I am busy following my grandfather's direc- 
tions. I practice on the harpsichord three hours daily; 
also read French two hours, and have one hour for house- 
hold work, and an hour for learning all kinds of mend- 
ing; also, I sew embroidery one hour, and in the even- 
ings I write a letter, or my diary, and read in "Raleigh's 
History of the World," as Dame Warren bade me. 

May 20, 1774. 

These have been terrible days. Early one morning 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 101 

a ship was reported entering the harbor. Doctor Cooper, 
Samuel Adams, Mr. Savage, Mr. Hancock, and others, 
were at the wharf at daybreak for news. And what news 
was there ! The Parliament, on the 13th of March, 
passed a Bill called the Boston Port Bill, designed quite 
to destroy this noble city. Boston is regarded as the 
head and center of rebellious America, and for its part in 
the " Tea " business is to be ruined. This Bill is to go 
into effect on June 1st. No merchandise is to come or 
go from this port; no ships to leave or enter; customs, 
courts, officers, and trade of every kind, are to be taken 
to Salem. Boston is to be starved out — must be depopu- 
lated; grass must grow in her streets. Doctor Cooper 
says that the object is to reduce Boston to the misery of 
London in the days of the plague. The publication of 
this news caused every heart for a time to stand still. 
Then some began to say that for this disaster Governor 
Hutchinson was responsible, and most likely his house 
would have been mobbed, and he might have fared ill, 
had not a rumor risen that he had been removed and 
would be superseded by General Gage, who would at 
once arrive. Indeed, the poor Governor had received 
his dismissal, and in great turmoil of spirit he fled that 
very evening to Milton, where he hath a country-seat, 
there to tarry until he finds an opportunity to return to 
London. About noon General Gage arrived at the Long 
"Wharf. Many of the best people went down to meet 
him. He was attended by his staff only, and being wel- 
comed with due respect he was bidden to a dinner by the 
magistrates and others. Doctor Cooper and some of his 



102 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

friends were at the dinner. He tells ns that albeit a 
great decency and courtesy were shown, a gloom rested 
on all, and there were frowns and whisperings, not only 
because of the Port Bill, but because it was known that 
four regiments are ordered here from New York to keep 
this proud and rebellious city in order. And are we 
Colonists to be kept in bondage by the bayonets of hired 
troops? The temper of the city is not to be thus co- 
erced. While the company were just parting after their 
dinner, a great crowd of men and boys passed with the 
effigy of Governor Hutchinson, which they burned on 
the Common, exactly in front of John Hancock's door. 
Of all things it seems to me that burning an effigy, or 
an unpleasing book, is the most idle and ungracious. 
My grandfather has told me that in such riotous proceed- 
ings a little vain bravado exhausts itself; righteous zeal 
and true patriotism turn not to these doings. But Doc- 
tor Cooper says that lads, and the unlearned, must have 
these methods of expressing their feelings, where others 
can fight, or speak, or write. 

The next day a meeting of grave citizens considered 
the Port Bill, and Paul Revere was forthwith sent by 
Boston to Xcw York and Philadelphia to ask advice, 
sympathy and aid. Paul Pevere had been up all night 
engraving on wood a cut to head the copies of the Port 
Bill Avhicli were printed for distribution. The cut is of a 
crown, a skull and cross-bones, and a liberty-cap. Paul 
Pevere went thundering out of town on a great coal- 
black horse, and all the boys shouted and cried " Long 
life!" and "Good speed!" as he passed. After him 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



103 




Wf^ 



104 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

rode severiil gentlemen, and members of the Masonic 
fraternity, of which he is Grand Master. However, the 
feelings of all the citizens do not go with the patriots. 
One hundred and twenty of the best merchants, lawyers, 
magistrates and gentlemen of Salem and Boston signed a 
letter of sympathy, approval and good wishes to Gov- 
ernor Hutchinson. Doctor Cooper says that many of 
these are unreliable men, Avho will turn their party when 
gain lies in the change ; and others, like j\Ir. Warley, are 
King's men from bribes and petty spite ; but many others 
are honestly loyal to the King, and would lose their for- 
tunes or die in his cause, as their conscience so dictates. 
Now such men I honor ; and surely it must be a comfort 
to the Governor in his mischances to have their counsel. 
Doctor Cooper has been reading to us a book, brought 
by the same ship which carried our bad news ; it is writ- 
ten by Josiah Tucker, Dean of Gloucester, and Doctor 
Cooper says that he never thought to find a book that he 
liked so heartily, written by a churchman and an Eng- 
lishman. The Dean reasons, and clearly shows, that 
England should permit the Colonies to set up for them- 
selves as an independent nation ; then, as allies, each 
country woukl grow stronger, and a most notable com- 
merce would spring up. Peaceable separation is what 
the worthy Dean demands. Oh, that his voice might be 
heeded. The Doctor had also a letter, published by one 
John Cartwright, on the 27th of March last, which 
pleads in the same fashion for American freedom as a 
means of glory and advancement to both England and 
America. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 105 

There is great bitterness against General Gage because 
he is known to have promised the King " that he would 
keep the Colonies quiet with four regiments ; " and more- 
over it is known that he hath orders to arrest Samuel 
Adams, Joseph Warren, and John Hancock, but he dares 
not lay a finger on them, knowing that the Colonies 
would rise at once in their defense. In view of the sad 
condition of the public affairs, the people have asked 
Governor Gage to proclaim a fast day ; but he refused, 
saying that " it would be but an occasion for the pouring 
forth of sedition from all the pulpits of the land." Sam- 
uel Adams and Mr. Hancock came the evening after this 
refusal, to call on Doctor Cooper and talk about our pres- 
ent troubles. I was greatly struck with the words and 
manner of Mr. Adams; he seemed to me like the grand 
men of old, of whom I have read in history. Doctor 
Cooper was for proclaiming the fast from every street-cor- 
ner, in defiance of the Governor, but Mr. Adams replied : 

" Let us wait. Patience is the grand characteristic of 
the patriot." 

Bessie and Mr. "Warley were present, having come in 
to see me. They are full of confidence in General Gage, 
and say that presently " these ringleaders " will be " sent 
to England for punishment, and their estates confiscated." 
Mr. "Warley said very rudely to Mr. Adams : 

" I can not see why you men will persist in running 
your heads into a noose. You have now reputation and 
good fortunes, why not live content? But no, you must 
expose yourselves to the name of rioters, and sacrifice all 
your goods. Sirs, you will be reduced to beggary!" 



106 PATRIOT AND TORY : 

Mr. Adams kept his temper well in hand. He stood 
leaning on the mantel, and looking down on Mr. Warley, 
who is but an insignificant-looking man. 

'' Sir," he replied, " we do not expect you, a man who 
came here but for gain, to sympathize with us, whose 
fathers laid the foundations of this empire in the interests 
of. freedom. Our fathers lived content on clams, muscles 
and wild fruits while they planted these Colonies ; and 
we, their sons, are emulous of their sacrifices. For my 
own part, I liave been wont to converse w^ith poverty, 
and if those who are unaccustomed to her company think 
her ill to endure, for me, I can live happily with her 
until my days end, if so be thus I can serve my 
country." 

I remembered what says my grandfather : "" How hon- 
orable is that man who fears naught but an evil con- 
science." 

Bessie tarried a,ll night with me. She talks very freely ; 
says that her father has lived beyond his fortune, and is 
deep in debt, and that she is only like to get what my 
grandmother will leave her. She says if her father had 
property like Adams or Hancock nothing would persuade 
him to risk it as they do — not for a thousand kings or 
countries ; and that now his sole hope is that the fortunes 
of these rebels will be confiscated, and that by some 
means he may get a share out of it. I told Bessie that 
it seemed shameful for a man to stand by seeking the 
ruin of neighbors who had never harmed him. But she 
only replied all was fair in love or war. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 107 

June 12, 1774. 

Governor Gage has vice-regal powers as commander-in- 
chief of all this continent; but men who know how mat- 
ters stand say that he is quite unequal to the task of deal- 
ing with America. The other Colonies have been heard 
from. New Yark has come nobly to the help of Boston. 
They recommend a General Congress, and bid Boston 
stand firm, and all the Colonies would come to her help. 
But since this was done a new meeting has been called, 
and the Royalists, the merchants who fear to ruin trade, 
and the careful men, like John Jay, have proposed great 
caution, and repress any further movement of the "Sons 
of Liberty.'' Philadelphia did not respond to Paul Pe- 
vere's news as warmly as did New York. Farmer Dick- 
inson is there at the head of affairs, in Franklin's absence. 
He proposes a Congress, but expects representations to 
the King to set matters right, and feels that Boston has 
been over-hasty, and is like to drag the whole country 
with her to ruin. 

On the 1st of June Governor Hutchinson sailed for 
England, and at noon the closing of the port took place. 
Not even a row-boat can 'pass from pier to pier. Not a 
bundle of hay or a sheep can be carried from the harbor 
islands. All is silent here; and at once work is stopped, 
and starvation seems to approach. But Boston does not 
suffer unheeded. At the hour when our port closed, all 
the bells in Philadelphia tolled, the flags were at half- 
mast, the houses and shops were shut, the people repaired 
to the churches to pray for us in our calamity When he 
heard of this, Samuel Adams said: 



108 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

"They mourn for us as for a dead city; they shall be- 
hold our resurrection." 

Connecticut and Rhode Island, and all the Massachu- 
setts towns, send encouraging letters; also from Maryland' 
has come such a word of encouragement as has made all 
our patriots here glad. Grandfather sent to Dame War- 
ren a letter which he had from Uncle Matthew Temple, 
from A^irginia. Patrick Henry, Lee and AVashington 
take our part. They have appointed a day of fasting and 
prayer, and all go in mourning to the churches. Beside 
this, from all parts of the country food is being sent to 
Boston — rice, corn, fish, wheat, meat, vegetables — from 
every poor little mountain village and fishing station, from 
every planter in the lovely South, we are getting help for 
this time of adversity. England now will see that the 
Colonies are one. Dr. Cooper preached a very good ser- 
mon on the text: "And whether one member suifer, all 
the other members suffer with it." I would it could be 
printed in England, perhaps then we would be better un- 
derstood. But of all comfort that has come to us, I think 
the patriots here most prize that offered by Georgia and 
the Carolinas. Of all the Colonies, South Carolina has 
most ties with England. Carolina, Mr. Adams says, has 
derived more profit and jDrotection from the mother 
country, and has met less restrictions than any other Col- 
ony. In fact, it is said that Carolina has no private cause 
of complaint, and if any Colony is to withdraw from the 
American cause and hold to the mother country, Carolina 
would be most justified in so doing; and if Carolina 
cleaves to the Continental side it will be pure patriotism 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 109 

and self-sacrifice on lier part. And yet from Carolina 
comes a letter which has made our stoutest hearts shed 
tears of joy, and has been handed from one person to an- 
other, that all may read the good words. Dr. Cooper had 
it, and I copied this bit: 

"The whole continent must be animated by one soul, 
and all must stand by each other unto death;" they "re- 
membered that the happiness of many generations, and of 
many millions, depends on their spirit and constancy." 

I think the souls of these good men must be as beau- 
tiful as their land, where winter never comes, but flowers 
bloom and birds sing all the year, and they put at stake 
this good inheritance for our sakes, who dwell by stormy 
seas among the snows. 

June 26, 1774. 

Grandfather has written for me to return home. He 
had meant me to stay here a year, but he finds the state 
of the country so unsettled, and the city of Boston in such 
a degree the center of the distress, that he desires to have 
me under his own roof for the present. Grandfather 
says the war will be ended in two years or so, and then 
I will not be too old to learn, and can return to Boston to 
finish my lessons. I am glad to be back with grandfather. 
People are kind here, but no one loves me. Moreover, I 
fear I shall be lead to do wrong. I do not suppose it was 
wicked to read Mr. Pope's "Rape of the Lock," — and, 
indeed, Belinda is so like my Cousin Bessie that I laughed 
all the time I was reading it; but reading that poem was 
not the worst of it, for Bessie brought me a book of plays, 
and I was so fond of reading, that, like a silly girl, I be- 



11 PA TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

gan at once upon it; but, as good luck would have it, 
Doctor Cooper came in as I had read but a page, and he 
took it away, and said he knew not as any soap was strong 
enough to cleanse the hands after touching the covers of 
such trash. Yet he made up to me the loss by giving 
me "Froissart's Chronicles," on my promise to read no 
books until he had passed opinion on them. I also al- 
lowed Bessie to dress my hair in a tower, after the Eng- 
lish style, with powder; and Doctor Cooper seeing that, 
did hand me the Bible open at Isaiah iii. 16: about the 
daughters of Zion who are haughty; and thereat I blushed, 
and tears came into my eyes for shame. I know Doctor 
Cooper thinks I am dreadful, and he Avould think me 
worse if he knew what nonsense and compliments were 
talked at Mr. Warley's the last time I was at tea there, 
and a foolish British ensign gave me a rose; and I was 
quite pleased at their gossip. About 7 o'clock Richard Reid 
came in, and before long he said he would take me back to 
Doctor Cooper's — not at all as asking my leave, but as giv- 
ing his orders. Still I rose and got my hat, though Bessie 
bade me not, for I feared if I did not go with Mr. Reid, 
Bessie would manage to send that ensign instead of her 
maid, as she promised, and so Dr. Cooper would be angry in- 
deed. Richard Reid said nothing, but walked by me as if 
on guard, until we reached the door-stone, when he said : 

" Those were not companions such as your grandmother 
would approve. Miss Temple." 

The thought of his reproving me, the great cross creat- 
ure ! — and only a matter of ten years or so older. I will 
never speak to him again. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



Ill 



And so I am going lionie, and am very glad of it. I 
shall go as I came, for Dame Warren returns to Plymouth 
sooner than she thought. 

July 6, 1774. 

I am at home with my grandfather. He thinks me 
improved. I try to keep up my French and drawing, 
though grand- 
m other a p- 
p rove s n e i- 
ther. The 
harpsichord I 
must forget, as 
I have none to 
play upon. I 
m i s s great- 
grandfather so 
much ; he and 

I used to talk 
by the hour 

II n d e r the 
trees, and he 
loved birds 
and flowers as 
simply as a 
child. Grand- 
father is al- 
ways busy at "I am at Home with my Grandfather." 

his sermons, and grandmother sits by him knitting ; there 
seems to be no one just for mc, yet I will .say it was very 
good of Pompcy to keep my flower-borders all in order 




112 PATRIOT AXD TOBY: 

while I was gone; he aud Xervey are right glad to have 
me back. Again I am learning to make pies, and butter, 
and cheese, aud am rearing fowls, and spinning endless 
skeins of yarn in the garret. Thomas Otis is back at 
Dame Warren's, and sometimes he comes here fur the 
day, and then we go to the shore and fish, and find shells, 
and sail boats, or row out in a boat ourselves; also, we 
go to the pastures after strawberries. Thomas tells me 
that several of the lads in his school are ready to go 
the defense of their country as soon as they are needed. 
They have all muskets and powder-horns, and have 
melted all the lead which they could get, and have run it 
into balls. All these requirements are kept for them by a 
negro man livino^ near the school, and when men are 
called for, off they will go. After one of our talks, 
Thomas reminded me of the lock of hair which I was 
to give him, and asked for it then, as perhaps a call might 
come any night, and he might go off without seeing me. 
I gave him a good lock (I know grandmother would 
not like it), and I promised him I would give none to 
any one else. But Thomas might know I would not I — 
whom should I give it to, pray? 

James Warren hath a letter from Boston saying that a 
gun-ship lies in tlie harbor, four regiments are landed, 
and the tov\'n is in a ferment; but into the city are com- 
ing constantly trains of sheep and beef cattle, and Avagon- 
loads of flour, fish, and so forth. 

August 20, 1774. 

Grandfather had a letter from Doctor Cooper. He said 
that Israel Putnam rode into town the other day, bring- 



ONE iiu2;bred years ago. 



113 



ing an hundred and thirty sheep as a gift from Brooklyn 
Parish, and the streets were lined with crowds cheering 
the old hero. It was under Israel Putnam that my father 
Avas fio-htino; when he was killed in Pontiac's War. Israel 
Putnam went to Doctor Warren's for dinner, and even 
some of the British officers came to see the old hero. 
INIajor Small said to him : 

"If Boston does not submit speedily, twenty ships of 
the line and twenty regiments will come from Britain." 

Said Putnam : 

" If they come 
I am ready to 
treat them as en- 
emies." 

Also the Dele- 
gates to the Gen- 
eral Congress in 
Philadelphia 
have set forth, 
and were escort- 
ed by numbers 
so far as AVater- 
town. They are 
accompanied by 
the pravers of 

i •' CARPENTER S HALL. 

good men like- (Where the first Congress met.) 

wise, and so many like my grandfather are praying that 
wisdom, and gentleness, and patience may be given them, 
and judgment, and kindness may be in the counsels of 
England, that surely we shall have peace and not war. 




114 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

And yet it is not peace with slavery that we want, l)ut 
peace and liberty ! There have been times, both in the 
meeting-house and at home, when, as my grandfatlier has 
stood praying for the success of the cause of liberty, 
he has been as one inspired, and has seemed, like the 
prophets of old-time, to have his face shine with a light 
from heaven. Then all who hear him hold their breath 
in awe and wonder, that so a man can talk with God. 
Richard Reid was in our church last Sabbath, when 
grandfather was uncommonly fervent in prayer. After 
the preaching, he said to grandfather : 

"Sir, such prayers must conquer victory for the Colo- 
nies." 

But Richard Reid tells us very sore tales of, the troubles 
about Boston, and indeed in all the Colony. Ail the 
King's mandamus councilors have been intimidated, so 
that they dare not serve. The " Sons of Liberty " have 
dealt in such fashion with one after another that they will 
venture to give no advice ; and now General Gage, Avho 
came here promising to "play the lion," is becoming 
alarmed. He has neither been so wise as a serpent, nor 
so harmless as a dove. The Governor has also begun to 
fortify Boston Neck, fearing to remain longer in Salem. 
Yet though the artisans of Boston have been all this 
while without work, and are dependent on the charity of 
neighboring cities for food, they will not labor for the 
Governor on works which shall be used against their 
towns people. 

This disturbance at Boston sends a troubled feeling into 
all our villao;es. Men leave their work early to go and 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



115 



drill ill the fields and by the road-sides. Every one has 
his sword and musket bright and ready for use, and not 
a day passes but one hears the sound of fife and drum. 
Yet, as the little dove cooed on her nest Avhen grandfather 
told his tales of war, and rang out his cry for a charge, 
so alongside this stream of public trials, of arming and 
drilling, of alarms, and wrath, glides the quiet current of 




"This disturbance sends a troubled feeling into all our villages." 

life at home, like some slow stream that scarce disturbs 
the leaves of its water-lilies. I do not see that flowers 
bloom less bright, nor birds are less glad, nor bees less 
busy, than before these troubles came. And when, hour 
after hour, in our long garret, grandmother, and Nervcy, 
and I are each busy at a wheel, we hear Pompey and 
Peter singing in the field, and see the yellow grain stoop- 
ing under the breeze, and far beyond the harvest fields 
that lie in the broad sunshine we catch the olimmcr of 



116 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 

the waters and the white shine of foam-crests that curl 
on Plymouth Bay. 

On some days we get a very fair escape from the garret 
and the monotonous hum of wheels. Such an escape we 
had this last week. The blackberries are very fine and 
plentiful, and grandmother said it would be well to make 
large quantities of wine and cordial of them for the sick; 
as, in case of war, there would be much demand for such 
things. She bade me go and invite Mistress Hooper, and 
Hannah Dana, and their servant lads to go with us, and 
we would take our wagon to bring back the pails. I was 
to carry my knitting and tarry with Hannah until milk- 
ing-time. Grandmother has a great idea of my being 
with Hannah. I was glad to go. All the world looked 
very lovely, and I went slowly along knitting, so as not 
to lose any time. I went to Mistress Hooper first, and 
then to Deacon Dana's. I had not been long with Han- 
nah before a tall, strong, rather handsome girl came in. 
She had a pleasant face, a neat dress, and a bold, daring 
look, as if she feared nothing. She went to her wheel, 
and as I sat knitting on the doorstep by Hannah, I asked 
her who this girl was. She said : 

"It is Deborah Samson, who was indentured to old 
Mistress Hooper. She was free last spring, and came to 
us to work half times for her board, and so be able to 
go to school." 

"Can that be Deborah?" I said. "Deborah was gen- 
erally sullen, and rough, and untidy. I remember her 
when I was a little child ffoino- to the district school. She 
was wont to wait for us at the yard gate as we returned 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 117 

of afternoons, and ^ith an odd leaf or bit of ne^vspaper 
ask us to tell her letters or words. Grandmother bade me 
give her my horn-book when I had done ^Yith it, and after 
a spelling-book, and then a Testament. Grandfather had 
much controversy with Mistress Hooper because she so 
seldon took the girl to church ; but she said she was 
needed at home Sundays to mind the place while others 
went to meeting. I often sat with Deborah beside the 
stone wall for half-hours teaching her to read. But it is 
some three years since I saw her, and I had forgotten her." 

"Mistress Hooper gave her a pretty good .setting out 
of clothes, because Deborah had nursed her so faithfully 
through the fever," said Hannah. " Indeed, the old wo- 
man bid her stay for wages ; but Deborah turned her back 
on all offers and came to us, requesting to work for her 
board and go to school. Father said m'C owed it to the 
poor, friendless creature to help her so much as that, and 
she has improved every hour. Her very looks have al- 
tered, and the mistress and children at school say they 
never saw such progress. I thought she would give up, 
being a woman among children; but no, she rises by day 
and toils at her book." 

As we talked we saw Deborah, who was at her wheel at 
the end of a long porch, casting sundry glances at the 
black boy, who is an evil, idle imp. Presently she went 
to him where he was cutting wood, seized him by the 
collar, and flung him one side, took the ax and hewed the 
wood with right good will, with strong, rapid strokes, like 
a man. 

" There ! " she said, giving back the ax, " work like 



118 PA TRIOT A SD TOE Y: 

that — as if you meant something! A despiseable bov you 
are, with your slowness ! " 

I have never seen a woman half so strong; she is far 
beyond Hannah. Hannah looked after her well pleased, 
and said : 

"I could almost love that girl." 

" And why not love her ? " I asked. " Poor soul ! no 
one has ever loved her, or had an interest in her." 

And then I went to Deborah, who was at her wheel, 
and giving her my hand, I said : 

"You are so changed I did not know you." 

She replied: 

" I can never forget how good you were to me. I think 
I would never have learned to read but for you. You 
were my only helper." 

I could do no less than bid her come to us if she wanted 
a book or any help in her studies and she should have 
what we could give, I then asked her to go next day Avith 
us for blackberries. She said no — she had only time for 
work, none for play. But as I explained the plan of my 
grandmother her face changed; she looked full of eager- 
ness, and said indeed she would go and pick with a will — 
she would do any thing for her country. 

When it was milking-time I set out for home, and Deb- 
orah and Hannah went with me along the lane with their 
pails in hand. Deborah talked earnestly about Avar. She 
said she hoped war Avould come, to show what Americans 
could do. For her part she wished she might go to battle, 
and hated the thought that she was but a Avoman and 
could do nothing Avorth Avhile for her countrv. I told her 



OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 119 

what my grandfather says of the horrors of war, but she 
seems to think war and battles are something grand and 
splendid. 

AVhen I reached home Pompey was mending the gate, 
and looking after several of our young neighbors, who had 
just come by from a training. Pompey said to me: 

" Missey Abbey, wonder what white folk made of dat 
'em likes guns and fightin' ? Nobody nebber ketch Pomp 
doin' dat." 

" But it is not because they like it, Pompey," I said ; 
" but they are preparing, like honest men, to do their 
duty." 

"Hoh!" said Pompey, "dis nigger honest 'nuif, but neb- 
ber see it him duty to fight. Why, folks gets hurt fightin', 
missey ! " 

"AVell, can not they suffer for their country?" 

"Mebby dey kin, ef dey has one," said Pompey; "but 
Pompey nebber hab no country. Africa ought to bin 
Pomp's country, but missed it somehow; and now nebber 
fight nohow." 

"But suppose people come here to attack us in our 
house, would not you and Peter fight for us then?" 

"Xo; run and take care ob own skin." 

" But there is Nervey, your wife — you would protect her." 

" No ; let Nervey look after self — plenty big 'nuif, mis- 
sey." 

"Oh, are you not ashamed to be such a coward? I 
should think vou'd blush at such ideas?" I cried, ano-rilv. 

"Can't blush; brack folks don't blush. Like to be a 
coward, missey — coward save a whole skin." 



1 20 PATRIOT AND TOR Y: 

"And you would not try to defend the j^eople who 
have taken care of you all your life? What would you 
do, pray?" 

" Holler and beg, and promise anyting, do anyting, 
say anyting, tell anyting, and run away so fast as can, 
missey." 

" I am diso-usted with such a coward ! " I said. 

"Can't help it, missey. Coward sleep, eat, get warm, 
hab tings taste just as good as nudder man. Better to lib 
long like coward dan to die pretty soon cause he mighty 
brabe." 

And so this is the home-guard we should have if the 
war came this way! Grandfather, old and not very 
strong, having all his life been a student; three black 
people to shriek "quarter" and run away; and grand- 
mother and me. Still, a war like this wdiich we dread, 
would not be like Indian wars, with barbarous murders 
of women and children, and scalping, and burning, and 
torture. 

October 1, 1774. 

Perhaps I must take back those last lines that I wrote. 
It is said that Governor Gage has threatened to hire In- 
dians to fight against the Colonies! Grandfather says 
that there will be as great indignation at this in England 
as here, and that every right-minded Englishman will de- 
test the spirit that would set barbarians to murder and 
pillage Christian people. But moi*e than this, there has 
been a terrible excitement because the Governor, on the 
first day of September, took from the magazine at Tem- 
ple's Farm, Charleston, two hundred and fifty barrels of 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 121 

powder and two field-pieces. This so exasperated the peo- 
ple that thousands of men seized their arms and marched 
forth, and were hardly persuaded to go home. Again a 
rumor was that Israel Putnam had been captured in Con- 
necticut, and another that British ships were bombarding 
Boston. In less than thirty-six hours all this region of 
country was in arms, and companies of militia were crowd- 
ing all the roads. Full thirty thousand men rose at each 
call, and without tumult, but without hesitation, directed 
their steps to what they thought the point of danger, and 
only returned when assured that the alarm was false. A 
company who had been marching since midnight in cross- 
roads came through our farm, and they halted while grand- 
mother gave them breakfast. Grandmother made two 
huge kettles of mush, and Nervey and I milked all the 
cows, and then we passed the mush and milk about in all 
the bowls, basins, pans and kettles which we could find. 
Then grandfather made a short prayer, and they went on 
much refreshed. At night this same company were return- 
ing, and they stopped and gave us three cheers, but would 
take nothing. Pompey and Peter vanished at the first 
military sounds,, and did not return for twenty-four hours; 
they came very hungry, having hidden in fodder-stacks 
in a distant field. They said they thought the "sodgers" 
were going to cut off our heads, and so they ran to save 
their own. I should think Nervey would hate Pompey 
for that ; but she seemed to think it very funny of him to 
take such good care of his skin. 



122 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



CHAPTER YI. 

November 20, 177-4. 
117IXTER has come upon us, and we are, for the most 
part, shut up from the outside world. We have been 
Avaiting with some anxiety for letters from Uncle John 

Temple, on 



whom we rel y 
to supply us 
with news of 
the Conti- 
nental Con- 
gress, which 
met on the 5th 
day of Sep- 
tember. At 
last the post 
has come. 
Grandfather 
and I went 
for the let- 
t e r s an d 
brought back 
two, one from 
Uncle John 
Temple, one 
from Uncle 
Matthew, in 

Virgina. We sent word by Peter to some of our neighbors, 
and next day they came about 12 o'clock, to hear what 







" Grandfather and I went for letters.' 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 123 

had been done. Grandmother had a qnllt on the frame 
in our common room, and Hannah Dana and Deborah 
Samson came over oifering to quilt ; but that was only an 
excuse to get opportunity to listen to the great news. 
Just as grandfather took out his letters, up rode James 
"Warren, covered with snow. He also had a letter; his 
was from Samuel Adams. From hearing these letters, 
and what was said, I gathered what I here set down : and 
I am quite sure of being right, for I took the pages to 
grandfather to be corrected. There were fifty-five mem- 
bers at the Congress. Patrick Henry was the great ora- 
tor; Ivutledge stands next him in debate; and for judg- 
ment and authoritv Colonel Washington stood before them 
all. Peyton Randolph, of Virginia, was chosen President, 
and one Charles Thompson was Secretary. Samuel Ad- 
ams suspects that they had a traitor or two among them 
from the start; but that is not to be marveled at, says 
grandfather — Judas was of the twelve. The Congress — 
for this name they took — was opened by prayer and read- 
ing of the thirty-fifth Psalm by Reverend Mr. Duche, an 
Episcopalian clergyman — the pastor, as I remcml^er, of 
Mr. Scaforth. The whole desire of this Congress seemed 
to be for peace, and they were willing to make many con- 
cessions to obtain the favor of the king. Farmer Dick- 
inson drew up a petition to the King full of wishes for 
conciliation, and enumerating only recent acts of oppres- 
sion, and asking only for peace, liberty, and safety, with 
a righteous regard for our charters. Nevertheless, on the 
motion of Mr. Adams they recommended tlie Colonics to 
prepare arms and ammunition, and study carefully the art 



124 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

of war. The Colonies also prepared an address to the 
people of Quebec Province, and to Nova Scotia and New 
Brunswick. They approved the opposition of Massachu- 
setts to the tyranny exercised toward her, and promised 
to stand by the people of the Bay until death. They also 
agreed, after the first day of December next, to stop en- 
tirely the slave-trade. The neighbors all said that this 
was a good motion, and like. In the event, to end the 
system of slave-holding bestowed by Britain upon us, but 
contrary to the laws of nature and conscience, and also 
contrary to those principles for which the Colonies avow 
themselves ready to fight. Grandfather said a word 
which explained our Pompey to me : 

" Slaves have no country. A man without a country is 
bound to be a coward and a traitor. When political 
storms arise he is like a ship without anchor-hold, danger- 
ous in its drifting to any fleet that it may be lying with." 

This Congress also addressed itself, not to kings and 
councils chiefly, but to the commons, to the people — the 
people of Great Britain, the people of the Provinces, the 
people of the Colonies. Said James Warren : 

" It is not the fiivor of lords and princes, but the popu- 
lar heart which will carry our cause to triumph." 

The Congress adjourned to meet May next. It had 
been said by some that jealonsies and enmities between 
the Colonies and between the members, would sow dis- 
cords and make this meeting but a brawl. Instead, it is 
declared that the whole Congress was conducted with a 
kindness, a generosity, a dignity, and a deep earnestness 
w^hich all ages must admire ; and James Warren said a 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 125 

correct record of such an assembly, and such discussions, 
must enlighten the people of England concerning us, and 
convince them of certain mistakes they had fallen into. 

After reading the letters about the Congress, my grand- 
father read that from Uncle Matthew Temple. He has 
been on business to Annapolis, and while he was there 
the brig Peggy Stewart came in from England with two 
thousand three hundred and twenty pounds of tea. The 
owner made haste to pay the duty thereupon, and so 
deeply offended the public. A committee kept constant 
watch to prevent the landing of the tea, and great meet- 
ings were held, so angry in temper that the owner of the 
herb saw that he had made a sad mistake. He sent writ- 
ten regrets and apologies, but they were not accepted — 
these would not atone for an act that might involve the 
whole Colony of ]\Iaryland. He, then, seeing no escape, 
said that he would burn the tea; but still the people did 
not esteem this meet compensation. Finally he declared 
lie would burn brig and tea. This offer was accepted. 
The sailors came ashore with their effects, and the owners 
and importers went aboard the doomed Peggy Stewart, set 
her sails and left the colors flying, then set the fire blaz- 
ing and came back to the wharf, where an immense crowd 
stood to see the ship burn at anchor, until she was fully 
consumed. 

I felt sorry for the owners, poor men; but then they 
should have remembered that the Colonists have a great 
principle at stake, and can make no concessions. 

From Annapolis Uncle Matthew, his business there 
being finished, went to Philadelphia, which he reached 



126 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

after Congress had adjourned. He went with Uncle John 
to a meeting of some gentlemen, and there the talk 
turned on the acts of the Congress, and on the declaration 
that they had made that Massachusetts Bay folk were 
right, and should be maintained to the death by all the 
Colonies. Mr. Seaforth was there. He wished much that 
Boston had been bidden to submit and pay for the tea, 
and apologize for her contumacy. Said Mr. Seaforth : 

"The king will never forgive Boston, nor forgive 
Congress for supporting the acts of that city. It is true 
the king is not heeding his best councilors, but as he 
lists he will do, and he will turn all the power of Britain on 
these Colonies, and crush them as one would an egg-shell." 

Said Uncle Matthew: 

" You reason like one who leaves God out of account. 
God will maintain our cause and plead for our rights, and 
one thousand shall flee at the rebuke of live." 

Mr. Seaforth replied : 

" I prognosticate failure, just because I take God into 
account. He will not prosper the rebellious people. He 
will fio;ht ao^alnst the Colonies as He did airainst Absalom 
and Benjamin." 

Mr. Reid was present, and he said he trusted that the 
two countries would yet make mutual concessions, and 
that peace would be more firmly established than ever 
before. 

" No," said Mr. Seaforth, " you do not comprehend the 
temper of our king and his present ministers. They will 
not yield one iota of their authority." 

Uncle John spoke up : 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 127 

" And we will not yield one tittle of our rights." 

Mr. Seaforth looked at Uncle John ; his faced worked ; 
tears overflowed his eyes; he held out his hand: 

" My friend, my friend, you are rushing on your own 
doom ! But, John Temple, when your cause is lost, and 
the vengeance of England falls on such stalwart Colonists 
as you are, I shall stand by you ; and if my intercessions 
and all my fortunes can buy your pardon, all shall be 
yours. Depend on me to stand by you when the conse- 
quences of this M'ork are heavier than you can bear 
alone." 

The two men shook hands heartily, and Uncle INIatthew 
says that every man in the room seemed deeply moved. 

December 1, 1774. 

Winter brings little variety in our lives. Grandmother 
and Xervey and I have been busy at the looms. Our 
flax was very good this year, and our linen is truly beau- 
tiful — the best in the neighborhood. We have also woven 
some dresses for grandmother and for me ; they are of 
cotton, with a narrow silk stripe. We got silk for the 
stripe by raveling out a silk shawl of grandmother's. 
We have also woven a blanket for my room. Deborah 
Samson came to help us weave the blanket ; she is so 
grateful to us for lending her two or three books, and for 
helping her on with her lessons. Grandfather says Deb- 
orah has a wonderful talent for learning. I offered to 
teach her what I knew of French and drawing, but she 
said no, she had no need of fine studies, for she was not 
like to be reckoned a lady ; what she wanted was cipher- 
ing and reading and such other studies as should make 
9 



1 28 P^ TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

her, in my grandfather's opinion, fit to teach the district 
school. She reads aloud to me sometimes, to practice; 
and when she is moved or agitated she has such deep, pe- 
culiar tones to her voice as I shall never forget. The 
other day, as she was working out a long sum which my 
grandfather had given her, she pushed back the thick 
black hair which she wears always oddly pulled down 
over her ears, and I saw that a piece had been cut out 
of the rim of her right ear, making a queer mark. I did 
not mean to look curiously at any personal defect, for 
that my grandmother has taught me is a rudeness ; but 
Deborah felt her ear uncovered, and suddenly pointing to 
the place, said : 

" That is all that I have to remember my mother by. 
She threw a hatchet at me and cut that. That was the 
final reason for the township taking us children from 
our parents. I was one of the youngest. My eldest 
brother and sister died ; the next brother went South ; the 
youngest girl was carried to Canada by one who adopted 
her, and I fell to Mistress Hooper, who was neither good 
nor evil to me, but only judged that I had no brains for 
study and no soul for religion." 

She spoke so earnestly that I grieved for her, and for 
her pitiful fortunes and bitter memories. I said, gently: 

" AVell, Deborah, you have proved your brains by tak- 
ing now to your studies ; and as to the religion, you have 
your Bible, and grandfather asks you to meeting far 
oftener than you come. Your past is done ; let it be as 
if it had never been ; but your future is yours : to be a 
wise and Christian woman, if you so will." 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 129 

Poor Deborah shook her head. 

"Abbey Temple, you at fifteen, having parents and 
grand-parents to thank for it, are a little lady, and a Chris- 
tian, and a pretty scholar; and I, at nineteen, am a big, 
rough lout, puzzling my brains over sums, and with noth- 
ing to boast of but muscles. The child of drunkards. 
Mistress Hooper's bound girl, can not be what you point 
out. But my future is mine ; I see it lifting up great and 
dim before me sometimes ; and I u-ill make it such a 
future as many shall hear about." 

Then she went back to her slate and would talk no 

more. I Avonder what she has it in her mind to do ? In 

Boston a colored woman named Phillis — one who was 

brought a slave from Africa — has become quite learned, 

and a poet. I w^onder if Deborah means any thing like 

that? 

January 2, 1775. 

In winter here it seems to me that we are like sailors, 
of whom I have read, who are locked up in Northern 
seas. By some of our storms we arc cut ofT from our 
nearest neighbors; the snow drifts in at doors and win- 
dows, and lies, day and night, a little white frilling 
(which the blaze in the fire-place does not reach,) about 
the sills. The fences are buried ; the corn and straw 
stacks show- like white hillocks; the outbuildings are 
lost, and Peter and Pompey are all day cutting out paths 
to the barn, and from their cabins to the house ; indeed, 
I often think that the cabin will be quite buried, and 
that grandfather and grandmother and I will be obliged 
to u;o and dig our servants from a mound of snow, as I 



130 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

have heard the Swiss dig out huts that have beeu covered 
by avahmches. This is our case in stormy winters. At 
other times it is not so bad, and we are able to see our 
neighbors and to get our letters from Plymouth town. 
Being for so many weeks in a state of siege from storm 
makes a guest very welcome, and we regard strangers as 
the old patriarchs did: as having not only a claim on 
our hospitality, but on our gratitude, for coming to our 
doors. This morning we had two such guests ; and 
though we had never seen them before, and though they 
do not quite share my grandfather's sentiments on many 
matters, still we were very glad to see them ; and my 
grandmother set her table with the linen her mother 
spun, and with our best willow pattern blue-and-white 
china, and with the silver we have had for two or three 
generations. Grandmother also put on her silk gown 
in the afternoon, and Nervey mounted a splendid turban, 
which Mr. Seaforth fetched from England on my uncle's 
order twenty years ago ; so Nervey's turban is older 
than I am, but looks quite as fresh as I do. 

Our guests are two English officers, a captain and an 
ensign ; and very pretty gentlemen they are, and so well 
read that my grandfather took much satisfaction in their 
company. My grandmother also was well pleased with 
them, and questioned them much about the dress and 
manners and ways of English women ; and when the 
ensign complimented her, and told her she was like a 
London lady — in fact like his aunt, whose husband is a 
counselor-at-law — my grandmother took it not amiss. 
However, the ensign proceeded yet further, in making 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 131 

himself agreeable, to flatter me ; but my grandmother 
checked him, betimes, short and sharp. 

" Abbey," quoth she, " is but a child, although she is 
well grown, and she knows not what to make of your 
compliments, nor am I desirous that she should learn. 
The world is over-well provided with women who have 
not tarried sufficiently long in girlhood." 

These two officers are traveling about Plymouth Colony, 
and are to go as far as Taunton and Providence, in service 
of General Gage. Theirs is not a public mission, nor, in 
truth, a secret one. The Governor, feeling uneasy, has 
given these officers leave of absence for a journey, and 
they are to visit the prominent men in the towns — as 
James Warren, and the ministers, as my grandfather — and 
get a view of the state of mind of the people in the 
country and towns of lesser note than Boston and Cam- 
bridge. Our gentlemen had been for a day and a night 
with Mr. AVarren, and are vastly pleased with Dame 
Mercy, although they think her tone to the mother coun- 
try is too bitter. 

At dinner the captain asked my grandfather did he and 
his neighbors intend to sustain the course of Boston. 

" Sir, we do," said grandfather. 

"And on what grounds?" asked the captain. 

"On the ground that Boston has been treated with tyr- 
anny." 

Then quoth the ensign, pettishly : 

"You are a good man, and must be ruled by righteous 
laws. Where find you a law for resisting tyranny, 
granted, even, that tliere has been tyranny?" 



132 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

" Sir," said my grandfather, '' the law of resisting tyr- 
anny has from time immemorial been written npon the 
hearts of Englishmen ; and you are not to think that, be- 
ing transplanted to this country, we lose the characteris- 
tics of our old stock." 

Indeed I think my grandfather was more than equal to 
them both, for further on they said : 

"You talk of charter in these Colonies; but in sooth 
you are going beyond chartered liberties." 

" Sir," returned grandfather, " our charter was not 
meant to supercede any of our natural or divine rights. 
We hold those on higher authority still. Charter says 
nothing about rights to air and Avater; and' there are 
liberties as wide and inalienably ours as our atmos- 
phere." 

Grandfather had in Deacon Dana and Isaiah Hooper 
for the evening; also, he told the officers that the 
Brown family were not of our way of thinking, and sent 
Peter with the captain to show him the way to their 
house, that he might talk with them. He returned be- 
times, and said he to my grandfather: 

"Do not disgrace honest Royalists by ranking such 
people with them. Those are but Royalists for spite and 
gain. They would be treacherous to either party for 
money." 

As these gentlemen were leaving they shook hands with 
grandfather and said: 

"No one hopes more than do we that this dispute will 
be peaceably settled. We belong firmly to our King's 
cause, but we are loath to fight with you Americans. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 133 

You have, indeed, very much of right and justice on 
your side." 

So they rode off, with grandfather's blessing. 

April, 1775. 

At Boston, they have commemorated the massacre, 
Joseph Warren being orator. Marblehead, Danvers, and 
Salem have been ransacked by British troops for stores. 
The soldiers at Boston have emulated our worst deeds, 
and have exasperated the people by tarring and feather- 
ing a country fellow from Billerica. Over all the country 
the fires of revolution seem bursting up. In A^irginia, 
Patrick Henry inspires all men by his oratory ; and along 
our stormy shores the fishers are arming to protect their 

right to the produce of the sea At last war 

has broken out, blood has been shed! Eight hundred 
British troops marched for Concord on the 18th, to cap- 
ture the stores and cannon. But Dawes and Paul Revere 
rode off from Boston to rouse the country; from the North 
Church tower the beacon streamed the signal to the 
watching towns near by; and as Paul Revere rushed 
through the farms and hamlets in the clear night he 
called all men to arms upon the way to Lexington. 
Young men and old, farmers, and pastors, went out with 
powder-horn and gun, and so, early on the morning of 
the 19th, the Minute Men made stand at Lexington. 
Trained troops well armed, and countrymen half pre- 
pared, were illy matched for fight. It Avas only for a lit- 
tle while that guns were fired and shots were heard ; and 
then the regulars had all their own way, and the country 
people fled, and seven of the Minute Men were lying dead 



134 PATRIOT AND TOEY: 

on the common ; and, however much men may now talk 
of reconciliation, all know well that hopes of peace are 
gone, and war has be_o;un. 

The troops then went on and partly plundered Con- 
cord, and then strove to tear up Concord Bridge. The 
Minute Men were too quick for them, fired, drove them 
oif, and held their bridge. At noon the British troops 
drew back toward I^exington. The Minute Men lay in 
ambush at every wall and tree, followed their way, and 
so pushed their enemies into a rapid retreat until two. 
Then the battle was renewed by Percy's men, and lasted 
all day, until eighty-eight Americans and two hundred and 
seventy-three Britons were killed, wounded, or missing. 
After this terrible day the post-carriers and messengers 
rode day and night, carrying the news, and calling the 
country to arms, and bidding men, and arms, and stores 
be sent forward to Cambridge. 

To our house came a messenger by day-break. He 
was covered with dust, and his horse with blood and 
foam. He told the terrible story while I ran for a bowl 
of warm milk, and Nervey and grandmother flew to tlie 
stable and put saddle on our one fleet horse. Prince 
Charlie. They were obliged to do this, for at the man's 
first shout, and at the beat of hoofs, Pompey and Peter 
fled, as if the whole British army were on us. Grand- 
father stood as a man stunned at the news. As the mes- 
senger leaped on Prince Charlie, and Nervey led away 
the poor, tired-out roan, grandfather paced up and down 
our common room, crying; "Lord, pity us. This is 
civil war. xVh ! all that tide of brother's blood." And 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 135 

so ho wrung his hands, and tears poured over his face; 
for he has so long prayed for peace, and now here is 
war ! My grandmother went about collecting clothes and 
stores to send to Cambridge; and grandfather, after the 
first burst of sorrow, went to bid his neighbors good-bye. 
I ran over to Isaiah Hooper's, and found him dressing 
quickly, and his wife helping him, while she sobbed 
aloud. The eldest little girl was putting him up a small 
sack of food, and I set at aiding her ; but I was blind 
from tears, and the three little ones Avere clinging about 
their father's knees, praying him not to go and bo killed; 
and I thought of my poor father, who went to Pontiac's 
war, and never came back. 

May 10, 1775. 

From all parts of the country we get news of the arm- 
ing, and of troops setting forth for Cambridge. There is 
terrible anger at plundering and murder done by Percy's 
men; and yet it is quite true that he sought to restrain 
them, and could not. This, as my grandfather says, is one 
of the great evils of war. It unchains the demons in men's 
hearts, and they go to excess that in peace would seem 
to them impossible. Massachusetts calls for an army of 
thirteen thousand six hundred men. When the news 
reached Connecticut, Israel Putnam was plowing. He 
left his plow in the furrow, and set forth to Cambridge. 
John Stark was in his mill sawing logs, and went oif in 
his shirt sleeves, so great was his haste. But why do I 
only think of those distant? Our neighboi's are gone. 
At Deacon Dana's they sent off Joseph as if each instant's 
delay had been a crime ; and since he went the house is 



136 -P^ 2^^-f T AND TOR Y: 

like a funeral ; they speak only of duty and the patriot's 
glory, and at each sound turn pale, as if they heard men 
carrying home Joseph's corpse. Mistress Hooper being 
alone, and help very scarce in the fields, Deborah Samson 
went over to bide with her ; and she will take no wages, 
as Isaiah is in camp ; but Deborah does a man's work, 
and is up betimes, plowing and planting by daybreak. 
Also, she keeps the two servant lads well in hand, as 
Mistress Hooper would not be able to do. Deborah has 
also come to my grandfather, asking him to examine her 
fitness to have the school this summer, and I think it 
will be given her. 

Many companies of militia have passed us, coming up 
from Barnstable, Yarmouth, and Sandwich, and our farm 
lying fronting the road which is their straightcst route, 
we have seen much of them. My grandmother, and 
Nervey, and Hannah Dana are constantly making bread, 
and boiling beef and bacon, and setting out cheese; and 
many hungry patriots have we fed in this way. Grand- 
father going among them as they halt to eat, gives them 
baskets of bread and other food, and therewith much good 
exhortation and counsel. 

June 1, IT 75. 

I knew not what was taking place when I wrote my 
former date. On that day Ticonderoga, a fort on Lake 
Champlain, was captured by Ethan Allen, a rough but 
valiant man. Strangely enough, though this fort was 
most important, and had cost Britain eight millions ster- 
ling, it was taken in ten minutes, without bloodshed — 
"in the name of Jehovah and the Continental Congress," 



ONE HUNDRED YE AES AGO. I37 

as said Ethan Allen, calling on Commander Delaplacc to 
surrender. Grandfather says this is truly like Ethan 
Allen, Avhom he knows well. He is no Christian man, 
such as my grandfather, but he does believe in two 
things — Jehovah and Congress — and about equally in 
both ; and grandfather is only surprised that he put Con- 
gress last in his summons. My grandfather says if indeed 
our trust would be first in the Lord's arm, and then in 
our righteous cause, as represented by our Congress, then 
truly victory would soon be ours, at little cost. But doubt- 
less we shall suffer much, because bitterness and trust in 
the arm of the flesh will be in our hearts. Meanwhile all 
the Colonies are rising to arms, and ready to sustain Mass- 
achusetts; but some still hope for peace and for a recon- 
ciliation to be eifected by this present Congress in Phila- 
delphia. We are likely, so we hear from our friends in 
camp, to suffer from a lack of supplies, from lack of dis- 
cipline in our men, from want, also, of unanimity in coun- 
sels, and of proper leaders. 

Our neighbors have made up three wagon loads of 
stores — clothes, food, powder, and the like — and have 
added all the lead and pewter that we can find, and have 
sent these on to Cambridge. Grandmother says if the 
trouble continues the pewter spoons and dishes and pitch- 
ers must be melted for bullets. How hard that would be 
for grandmother, who had her pewter from her mother, 
and values it so, keeping it l)right as silver ! but she speaks 
calmly of melting it. 



138 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 

July 26, 1775. 

Once I wished greatly to have something to write about 
other and greater than the changing of seasons, the com- 
ing and going of birds and flowers, and the tasks of home 
work, which are always the same. Now, when I seem 
only to have war and bloodshed and sorrow to write, I can 
not set it down. Thus, Dame Warren told me, it is ever 
with us human beings, who never are satisfied. 

On June loth the Continental Congress, sitting in Phila- 
delphia, recognized the existence of an army called the 
Continental Army, and unanimously chose Colonel George 
Washington, of Virginia, as commander-in-chief. On 
him, as the foremost son of the most powerful of the 
Colonies, as brave in war, wise in peace, reserved in coun- 
sel, the hearts of all the people seem to be set. My grand- 
father paid him the highest compliment that he can bestow 
on living man, when he heard of his election to the com- 
mand of the army. He said: 

"This is the man likest William the Silent of all men 
that ever were born." 

From this choice of George Washington, and the ap- 
pointment of a day of fasting and prayer, to be kept in all 
the Colonies, entreating God to preserve our liberties, and 
reconcile us with the mother country, we might have hoped 
much; but before ncM'S of these things reached us, we of 
Massachusetts heard again the awful sound of war, and 
buried the dead of Bunker Hill. 

On June the 17th a dreadful battle was fought between 
the Regulars and our xx>or half-armed Colonists. Charles- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



139 



town was burned. Twice our men drove back the King's 
troops, and then only failed to complete the victory be- 
cause their powder gave out. From what we hear, the 
King's men were bold indeed, and did wonders; but that 
only shows more marvelously the courage of our farmers, 
who fought so well. Oh ! what a grievous sight was that, 
when wives and children 
stood to see our patriots 
falling; and the ground 
was covered with dead 
British, whom once all 
Ave Americans loved so 
well as if they were our 
brothers. And that good 
town of Charlestown was 
burned. And when the 
fight Avas done there 
were found of the American loss, all counted, 450; and the 
English loss was 1,050 ; for three times the Englisli marched 
up that hill, while our guns poured their fire on them. But 
we lost Moore, and Gardner, and Parker, and, worst of 
all, that best of our patriots. Doctor Joseph Warren. When 
Warren went to the field, Elbridge Gerry, so they say, 
met him and begged him to save his life for a more hojje- 
ful day, but he replied : 

" It is pleasant and becoming to die for one's country." 

The terrible news came to us the afternoon after the 

day of battle. As the messenger stopped by our gate 

grandfather ran forth bareheaded to hear the news. He 

listened until the words came, "and Joseph Warren was 




BATTLE OF BUNKEK HILL. 



1 40 -P^ TRIO T ASD TOR Y: 

killed, the last in the trenches," and then he turned about, 
unable to hear more, and went into the house; for he 
loved \yarrcn, not only as a patriot, but as a friend and 
son — for my grandfather was his teacher long ago, before 
Warren went to Harvard. We did not see grandfather 
until prayer-time, but we heard him pacing his room, 
mourning and crying, "Would God I had died for thee, 
my son, my son ! " At worship-time he composed himself 
and came out, and opening the Bible he read from Sam- 
uel, "The beauty of Israel is slain upon the high places; 
how are the mighty fallen;" his voice trembled, but he 
kept on until he reached the words, "I am distressed for 
thee, my brother," when he broke into sobs, and could read 
no more. All night he remained walking up and down 
the common room, praying for the wounded and for pris- 
oners, for widows and orphans, and for the afflicted land. 
Grandmother says she fears grandfather will die of a bro- 
ken heart for these things; and truly he has aged very 
fast — eats but little, and sleeps poorly. 

We heard that Isaiah Hooper was wounded, yet slightly, 
and not enough to send him home. Joseph Dana sent 
home a letter a week after the battle, giving us a full ac- 
count. Deacon Dana hath broken his leg by a fall from 
the haymoAv, and Hannah has now to manage the farm, 
and is most of the time afield. Were it not for this she 
would, I think, go forward to camp to tend the sick and 
be of what use she might. I hinted as much to her, and 
she retorted somewhat savagely: 

"The war is not done yet. Quarrels like this last 
longer than bone-breaks." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 141 

Deborah Samson has gotten the school from my grand- 
father, and teaches well, besides being the mainstay of 
Mistress Hooper's forlorn house. 

December 5, 1775. 

Woe is me for the words I have to write. The judg- 
ments of God have fallen heavily on our house; or per- 
haps His mercies to my grandfather come in the light of 
judgments to grandmother and me. The Lord is doubt- 
less angry with an unforgiving heart; but still I can not 
forgive the Brown family ! In all our sorrows they re- 
joiced; they exulted in Warren's death; they gloried in 
our defeats and in our errors; and when my grandfather 
prayed for Colonial success they would no more come to 
meeting, but reviled him to his face, and said he should 
rue the day. Thus they turned on themselves the atten- 
tion of the Minute Men, and they were watched. Now, 
on the 29th of October it was known among us that at 
James Warren's, in Plymouth, would meet, in a few days' 
time, several notable patriots, to take counsel, especially 
about provision of balls and powder for our army. The 
Browns were perhaps allowed to know this, to try them. 
In truth they sent a messenger to have a half company of 
Regulars come and surround James Warren's, to have him 
and his guests — my grandfather among them — captured 
as rebels. This messenger was seized on the 30th of Oc- 
tober, and carried into Plymouth and made confession. 
Deborah Samson had ridden to town after school to see 
to some matters for Mistress Hooper. A pelting storm 
came up, and in this Deborah stopped at our gate as she 
went home, to leave a letter, and she cried to me: "Those 



142 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Browns "vvill get their deserts this night ! " and she tokl the 
tale, saying : "And now twenty ISIinnte Men are starting 
from Plymouth town to burn the Browns' house and 
barns and bid them speed within Royalist lines ; or, if they 
be caught among ns in forty-eight hours they must see to 
it — and good enough for them." 

So my grandfather having come to learn the truth, he 
said: 

" 'Tis an evil deed." 

But Deborah cried out : 

" Minister, the Browns are fierce to get you a halter ! " 

" Love your enemies," quoth grandfather, as Deborah 
rode on, saying she was " right glad spies would be dealt 
with, and the worse the night the better for their deserts." 

But my grandfather Avas already preparing to go out, 
and bid Peter sa'ddle him old Maple. Says my grand- 
mother : 

"The night is too wild, and you are sick and feverish; 
do not go out; let the ISIinute Men settle with spies." 

"So much the worse night for a woman and children to 
be out." 

" But 'tis their deserving," said my grandmother to this. 

" God deals not with us after our deservings," he re- 
plied. 

" And you are one whom they most hate/' said grand- 
mother. 

" Then I must the more forgive them," said grand- 
father. 

" But the Minute Men will have their way," persists she. 

"Look you," said the goodman, "these men are most 



OyE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 143 

of tliom from my flock ; and if I go not to hinder them 
I shall be like Eli, "vvliose sons made themselves vile, and 
he restrained them not." 

And now the horse was ready; and wrapping great- 
grandfather's plaid about him, my sick grandfather rode 
off in that storm of sleet and wind, and reached the Browns' 
home just as the Minute Men were giving them ten min- 
utes to leave. And in sooth it was a sore deed, for the 
voun<>:er children were innocent, and Mistress Brown not a 
strong woman : and no one about would like to take them 
in, when, Avet and beggared, they were turned into the 
stormy night. ISIy grandfather rode up where the light 
streamed from the open door, and cried out : " Sons and 
brothers, what are you doing? Are you trying to draw 
down God's curse on the cause of liberty?" And then 
he so plead with them, and laid down God's law, and 
threatened them with God's anger if they thus avenged 
themselves, that they agreed to leave the house; but they 
brought out the Bible and made Mr. and Mistress Brown 
swear on it that hereafter if they desired to help the Royal 
cause they would not act as spies, but would openly remove 
themselves and their belongings within the lines of the 
Governor's party. Mistress Brown and her younger chil- 
dren were shrieking and praying for mercy ; and they clung 
to grandfather — the man whom they would have had seized 
as a rebel — and begged him to stay all night to protect 
them ; but he, having taken a promise from the Minute 
Men, told the Browns that they were safe, and so rode 
home in two hours' time wet to the skin. Grandmother 

had hot cider and a supper readv for him, but he appeared 
10 



144 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

greatly chilled and depressed. The next day being Sab- 
bath, he preached; but he seemed to feel that he might 
stand in his place no mcu^e, and so he preached and so 
plead with his people that all were in tears; and after two 
hours' speaking — for he was as one who had all his last 
words to say — he fell in a faint as he came from the pul- 
pit, and was thus carried home. 

From the first my grandfather felt that he must die, 
and he sent for Mr. James Warren, that he might make 
known his wishes. He told him that after his own death 
my uncle John Temple, in Philadelphia, was to be my 
guardian, and I should go to him when he ordered it; 
but so long as I might be left to comfort grandmother in 
her loneliness I was to stay. As for grandmother, from 
the moment my grandfather fell ill she had neither word 
nor siffh nor tear. I do not think she knew when she ate 
nor when she slept, doing both sj)arely and unconsciously, 
and keeping her place as nurse by grandfather without 
laying off her clothes day or night; and it seemed that she 
begrudged any of us the privilege of so much as bringing 
him his medicine. And so our weary days wore on ; and 
I am sure grandmother wanted to die with grandfather, 
and I know I do — for who will love or care for me after 
him? This world is no place for orphan girls. And now 
I shall never be happy again, for grandfather has gone, 
and yesterday we buried him; and coming back here it 
seemed as if all the world were dead. I made sure that 
he would live to be an hundred years old, like great- 
grandfather, and that I should make his old age so happy ; 
and now he has frone, and these dreary snow-flakes are 



OXE HUSDRED YEARS AGO. 145 

falling on his grave, where, last evening, \ve laid him, 
while all his people wept and mourned like children be- 
reft of a father. Grandmother has said no word, shed no 
tear; she has put his empty chair opposite her own, and 
there she sits, looking at it hour after hour. It seems to 
trouble her for me to be crying. I wonder does she think 
I have lost nothing in grandfather? And so I wrap my 
shawl about me and stay much in my own room, or with 
Nervey in the kitchen. No one to teach me ; no one to 
say a kind word and call me " little maid." Oh ! how 
can all the world go on as before, when such a good and 
lovely life has died out of it ! 

Jaxtjary 30, 1776. 

The day after that last writing grandmother called me 
to her and bid me take from the presses and chests, 
blankets, sheets, socks, woolen cloth, linen, dried fruit, 
bottles of wine, until all the floor of the common room 
was covered. Then she laid down all her pewter — the 
plates, the pitchers, all the shining store that she had 
cared for. She had sent Peter to bid Hannah Dana 
come to her in a wagon ; and Hannah came in with a 
sad face, for she much loved grandfather — and there sat 
grandmother, white and haggard and trembling, with all 
these goods laid about the floor. She said to Hannah, 
quite calmly : 

"These goods all belong to my country. You are to 
take them to your home, and send them forward with 
your own gifts as they are needed ; for those who follow 
me here will not be loyal to the cause of the Colonies." 

AVhen she said that, I ciMild not stop a scream, and I 



146 PATRIOT AXD TOR Y: 

rushed out into the kitchen to cry. AVhcn I dropped 
down on the hearth, and hid my face in a chair to cry, 
Xervey said to me : 

" Dere chile, you knows it all now. Missey hab got 
her call sure, and you and me be lef alone. You see, 
chile, one-half a body can't lib in dis yere ebil worl' 
when odder half gone to heaven ; no, can't no how." 

^Vhen I dared return to the common room Pompey 
and Peter were carrying all those things out and packing 
them in Hannah Dana's wagon ; but Pompey did hate to 
carry out the pewter. Then Hannah bid Pompey drive 
to her house and unload, and grandmother signed to 
Hannah and me, and went to the garret. She tottered 
as if she would fall, but Avould not be helped. She 
opened a big blue chest full of linen, and said to me : 

"Abbey, yon have been a good child ; this is my gift- 
to you." 

She locked it and gave me the key, while I kept on 
crying. And then she sealed up the key-hole, and fast- 
ened into the seal a paper with "Abbey Temple : her 
property," and signed her name, and Hannah signed 
her's. She did the same with the oaken chest with my 
mother's things, and a smaller box holding silver and 
other property that had come to grandmother's Avith me; 
then she said that grandfather's books would be packed 
and go to Deacon Dana's, to be kept for me; and after 
that she went to the common room, and grandmother not 
wishing to talk more, Hannah went home. How can I 
tell of those pitiful days ! Poor grandmother sat by the 
chimney-place, sometimes reading her Bible, and then for 



OyE IIUSDRED YEARS AGO. 147 

hours looking at that empty chair, as she knit and knit 
socks for our patriots — knit with hands so feeble that she 
could liardly hold the needles, but scarcely noticed any 
one as they went and came. 

On Christmas night I left her knitting and "went to 
try and make some dish which would tempt her to eat. 
When I returned she had fallen into a i)leasant sleep, 
with a smile on her face, as if she dreamed of grand- 
father. So I sat to watch her until she should wake, and 
Xervey coming in, I beckoned her to keep quiet, whis- 
pering that now grandmother would be better. Xervey 
stood by me for a few moments, looking at grandmother, 
then she stepped over and felt her forehead and the hand 
from which the knitting had fallen, and she said to me: 

" Chile ! she better now forebber ; nebber hab no 
more heartache. Missey done gone where de good man 
went to." 

Oh, me ! oh, me ! I had been sitting there to watch 
the dead. — And she was indeed a good grandmother; and 
there are few so faithful hearts to love and break. 

We buried grandmother beside the other two. Our lot 
in the churchyard is fuller than our home. Hannah 
Dana came to stay with me until Mr. Warley and Bessie, 
and Mr. AVarren, who has gone to Cambridge, might be 
written to. The answers have come. Mr. Warley says 
that he and Bessie will come at once to take possession. 
Mr. Warren writes that, as the season is so bad, I had 
better tarry here with Bessie until traveling is good, and 
then, with the ])lack ])eople, I will go to my uncle John 
Temple, in I'liiladelpliia. I look for Bessie and her 



148 



PA TEIOT ASD TOE Y: 



father to-morrow, or any day soon. I will see changed 
times here in this house, where love of God and love of 
country have ruled. I would it were spring, and I might 
get away to Philadelphia. And yet, how can I leave this 
best and only home that ever I have known ! 




BURIAL HILL, PLYMOUTH. 

"Our lot in the churchyard is fuller than our home." 

And now, in turning over these pages, I see that I 
have, in our home and heart troubles, forgotten to tell of 
what has passed in the country these many months since 
the terrible day at Bunker Hill. But now T shall have 
time to write it all, for I shall not care to be very much 
Avith my gay cousin, who has not such sorrows as I have 
to make her grave of mood. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 149 



CHAPTER YII. 

Febrtjaky 3, 1776. 
rpHE roads arc very good now for runners, and all our 
neighbors are sending supplies to camp. Three large 
loads start to-morrow, and Nervey and Hannah are busy 
preparing food to send. Hannah says no help will go to 
patriots from this house again, and so she shall make the 
best of her last chance. I am by the fire in the common 
room writing, and now I shall try and recall some of 
those things that happened while our home troubles were 
driving every thing else out of my mind. 

The Congress did much the same as last year except 
that General AVashington, four major-generals, and an 
adjutant-general and eight brigadiers were appointed ; 
also, a battalion of riflemen were raised in Pennsylvania. 
Pichard Pcnn went to England to seek peace, and Con- 
gress prayed the king for reconciliation. 

It is said that General Washington has about double 
the number of men that the British have, but our men 
arc ill-armed, half clad, and without training or supplies, 
or fit officers, while the English troops are the flower of 
the army, perfectly appointed for war. James AVarren 
writes that the trials of the General are bitter indeed: 
without money, food, powder, tents, or any authority ex- 
cept what resides in his own power over men, and his 



1 50 ^-^ TRIOT AND TOE Y: 

skill to guide ; and yet our people arc liberal, and feed 
and clothe the troops, and the men are passing brave. 
From every cellar and farm-yard supplies go to camp ; and 
many, like my dear grandmother, cheerfully melt their 
domestic utensils to make bullets. Money is -wanting, 
and I often hear our friends say that the paper issued by 
Congress will be worth nothing. 

Do'ctor Franklin has come back, and has visited the 
camp. He says there is no hope of peace but by war, 
and that the Colonies — now thirteen represented in Con- 
gress, for Georgia has come in — must firmly unite and 
set up a government, and declare independence. All 
summer, and until now, there have been skirmishes, and 
burning of houses and towns, and capture of men ; also, 
fights on the sea, and taking of small ships. Meanwhile 
some of the Colonies have armed ships of their own, and 
talk of a navy. General Gage is gone home to England, 
and is succeeded by General Plowe ; and every one thinks 
it a shame that an Irishman should lead an attack on 
America while Ireland- is a colony like ourselves, and 
there has always been such friendship between us — so 
James Warren says. 

An answer came to the petition from Congress to the 
King. He refuses all conciliation. We must give up 
all our liberties or fight until we conquer what we claim. 
These are dreary times, for now those whose friends are 
in camp know not when to look for them home. Dame 
Warren showed me a letter from Mistress Abigail Adams, 
wife of John Adams; indeed from my heart I pity her. 
She hath a familv of voung children, her farm is left to 



ONE II USD RED YEARS AGO. 



151 



her to manage, and their poverty i.s sore ; also, a dread 
fever hath been among them, and her mother is dead, 
M'hile her son had almost died, also ; yet still she hopes 




RETREAT FROM QUEBEC. 

that her hnsband will tarry at the front post of dnty so 
long as the conntry is in need. Ethan Allen has been 
captnred at the Island of Long Point, and is sent in 
chains to England; 'tis said he will hang at Tybnrn, and 
so we lose a rie-ht brave man. Xor do we lose him alone. 



152 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 

Montreal has been captured, and that is a small gain com- 
pared to our loss at Quebec, where fell young MacPher- 
son, and Montgomery, who was as a mirror of every 
virtue, for whose loss, as for Warren's, the heart of the 
whole country was broken. Oh! who shall fight our bat- 
tles now that the good and brave are gone? 

In Virginia, Governor Dunmore has proclaimed mar- 
tial law, and has freed all convicts, debtors and slaves 
who will join his standard; also, the Regulars have 
armed the Indians. I had a letter from Uncle Matthew, 
from A^irginia, last evening, and he said that Norfolk 
was cannonaded and fired on New Year's day; and not 
only were some people killed, but nearly all the town 
was reduced to ashes. On that same 1st of January, as 
we learn from Joseph Dana, the new American flag — 
a tricolor, with thirteen red and white stripes and a blue 
ground in the corner, was unfurled over our army at 
Boston. AVe hear that the King is hiring foreign troops, 
Hessians and Hanoverians, to fight against us. And so 
this is our state in these Colonies; and I suppose this 
year of 1776 is the most miserable and unpromising that 
ever has been since our Puritan fathers came hither to 
found a country. 

February 10. 

Bessie AYarley and her father came soon after my last 
writing. Bessie seemed a deal moved when she reached 
here. She kissed me and lamented over me, and said 
that the house looked like a grave or a prison, and that 
she wished that people never died. She moped a deal 
that day; but the day following Hannah Dana went home. 



O^E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 153 

and Bessie unpacked her boxes. She wore a black gown, 
and as she put her gayer clothing in the press she said 
black did avcU enough where there were none to see ; and 
presently she wished there were no farms, and that a law 
were passed making it a capital punishment to live away 
from town. 

"In truth, Bessie," I said, "I am surprised that you, 
who delight in society, have come to this farm to dwell." 

Bessie sat on the bed-side, and throwing up her hands 
she cried: 

" Is the child a natural ! Surely you know it is not 
choice, but need, sends us." 
■ I did not see the need, and I remarked as much to her. 

"AVhy, child, did I, not tell you that the father is in 
debt; and in Boston he is set on for payment night and 
day. Also, he can hardly get credit for fuel or meat. 
Therefore, to escape from his creditors to a house with a 
full cellar, albeit it is in the back woods, is much to his 
mind, and we shall stay until our creditors, who are 
patriots, are harried out of Boston. Again, Abbey, this 
farm and its belongings are like to be my sole dowry, for 
if father got ten thousand pounds sterling to-morrow he 
is capable of spending the same in a year. But as your 
grandfather and grandmother were patriots the place is 
like to be confiscated as soon as this rebellion is put 
down, and I come to secure my own by taking posses- 
sion before the royal cause triumphs. 'Tis not from 
toleration of the country, for in sooth I might as well be 
dead and buried as be here, where not an officer nor a 
pleasing young man is to be seen." 



154 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 

And so much as Bessie railed at the country, so did 
lier father revile country fare, and the fact that there was 
no wine and no better drink than cider in the cellar. 
The two kept up such a din of complainings qX low ceil- 
ings, and small Avindows, and blue paint, and the coarse- 
ness of the furnishings, that full often I ran to the 
kitchen, where it was far pleasanter to hear the black 
people bemoaning their " master and missey," and telling 
of all their life-long goodness. 

After the third day Bessie and her father got out a 
pack of cards and sat playing with each other, the stakes 
being pence, or pins, or toothpicks. They entreated me 
to learn ; but I told them roundly cards were the devil's 
playthings, and I would not touch a hand to them, 
whereat they were angry; but I have often heard my 
grandmother say it. The fourth day Bessie would exam- 
ine her new possessions. She was quite anxious at the 
sight of the three chests sealed up, and called her father to 
look at them; but he, knowing grandmother's signature, 
and Hannah's name as witness, bade her let them be, as 
they were none of her's. Bessie searched grandmother's 
wardrobe, and declared it old-fashioned trash. ' She 
deeply hurt my feelings by the way she flung things 
about. Then she ended by saying grandmother's goods 
were no use to her, except the lace and jewelry, which she 
carried oif, telling me I could have the rest. So I cried 
over the things, and packed them in my box. While I 
was so doing Bessie called me loudly, and I ran to her. 

"Where is the pewter?" said she. "Is that in your 
box, too?" 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 155 

"Xo," quoth I^ roundly^ "^Tis sent to camp to run 
into bullets." 

"What! not all the pewter gone to be melted by rascal 
rebels ! " 

Yes; my grandmother sent it, before she grew too ill 
to do so." 

"Sent it away! "What robbery! what shameless rob- 
bery of me! She had no right! — and sent it to rebels! — 
for shame on her!" 

I had never seen Bessie angry. She is merry, careless, 
and witty. But now her eyes flashed, and she Avas in a 
fierce rage. Her father sat by, saying nothing, but up I 
spoke with spirit : 

" Shame to you, Bessie Warley ! Was it not her own ? 
and had she not a right to give it to a holy cause? — and 
God's blessing will go with it. Nor is it just nor decent 
for you to revile the dead ! " 

And with that, bursting out crying, I rushed oif np 
stairs, and putting a shawl of grandmother's about me, I 
sat in the window looking over the snowy fields, and cry- 
ing, and bemoaning grandmother, and pitying myself, 
until up came Nervey, who had heard all. 

" Nebber min', honey," says she, "don't cry for dat 
cbil chile. Dis nigger nebber git her no dinner, see ef I 
do. I do n't 'long to her, an' I nebber do one ban's turn 
more for no such ebil-minded trash." 

But before I could reprove Xervey, as my grandmother 
would have done, we heard ^Ir. Warley's voice raised 
high : 

" Have done fretting about that pewter ! You can't 



156 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

gather spilled milk. And when these rebels are got 
under, you can have your pick of what silver belongs to 
John Hancock or the Quinceys. But I tell you, daughter 
Bessie, it is always well to have two strings to your bow; 
one never can tell what may turn up. If this rebel side 
does get the best of the quarrel, what will you do unless 
vou have friends amons; the rebels to sav a word for vou 
or take you into their houses? Now, your only chance 
of that is in these Temples. I beg you treat your cousin 
Abbey with more respect. Go, and apologize. A few 
words are a small matter to waste, and you may see the 
time when those few words will ^e all your chance of a 
home." 

Just here Xervey heard a squalling among her chickens, 
and ran down to them ; and before long I heard Bessie 
coming. I looked out of the window; she stood in my 
door, saying, in a cold tone : 

" Cousin Abbey, perhaps I was over hasty." 
It was as the voice of Mr. Warley, counseling her to 
apologize for selfishness' sake, and I turned to say, 
angrily, that she need not give herself the trouble, 
when suddenly Bessie relented on her own account, and, 
springing to me, she clasped me in her arms, kissed me, 
calling herself all manner of names for having hurt my 
feelings, and bidding me never heed, for hereafter she 
would be the best cousin that ever could be heard of. 
Now this was not Mr. AYarley's policy, but my own fickle, 
easy, kindly cousin Bessie; so I made friends with her, 
and went and persuaded Nervey to get dinner. Bessie 
was very good until to-day. She talked nicely about 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 157 

grandmother, knit, reeled while I spun, and did not say a 
word amiss about the Colonies. 

To-day she looked into grandfather's empty study, and 
said she was glad the books had been carried off, for 
doubtless they were full of hobgoblins, and awful threats 
to the wicked, and doleful tales of Cotton Mather. I told 
her they were good books indeed, and grandfather could 
have given me nothing I liked better. I was spinning, 
and Bessie ran to her room and came down with a book, 
in marble paper covers. She bid me knit, or do some- 
thing quiet, and she would read to me, for she was like 
to die of ennui in this waste of snow. The book she had 
in hand was called " Amelia," written by one Mr. Field- 
ing; and she had not read above three pages in it when I 
begged her to stop, saying it was not snch a book as my 
grand-parents would have allowed me to read. 

"True," said Bessie, "'tis a novel; but why so fastidi- 
ous all at once? Did I not read you two novels when I 
visited here ?" 

" Yes," I said ; " that is so ; and I know it w^as wrong in 
me to hear them. But though I did thus deceive my 
grand-parents while they were alive, I am sorry for it, 
and I shall not disobey their rules now that they are dead. 
What would a young maid, left alone in the world as I 
am, come to if she despised the teachings of those who 
had been her only friends and guides ? " 

"Dear! dear!" cries Bessie, "what an old-fashioned 
creature you are ! Surely I do not know what you 
wanted with a grandmother, being quite capable of being- 
grandmother to yourself." 



158 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 

At that I burst out crying, antl Bessie wished herself in 
Boston, and ISIr. AVarley said we two were the plague of 
his life ; so I came here to the kitchen fire to write this 
diary, and INIr. Warley and Bessie sit in the other room 
playing cards. Ah ! what a changed house is this ! I 
used to think when we were all here, before great-grand- 
father died, that surely those angels whom Elisha's young 
men saw at Dothan must be encamped in shining ranks 
about this long, red farm-house, with its high roof, its 
sheltering trees, its peaceful fields — for here were always 
love to God and love to man, and gootl works, and days 
begun and closed with prayers. But now — now it is al- 
ways quarreling and card-playing, and Bessie sings 
French love-songs, and her father says very swearing 
words, like " bless my soul," and " confound me " — M'hich 
I ought never to have written, only they got down be- 
fore I thought ; and as for me, I quarrel with Bessie, and 
often hate Mr. Warley, and think myself very much 
better than them both ! How^ I wish it were spring, so 
that I might go to my Uncle John. But Mr. AVarren is 
away, being Speaker of Assembly, and here I must stay 
for a time. 

April 28, 1776. 

Only the day after that last writing we got in this 
house such a change for peace as I would not have be- 
lieved possible. A new minister had been got for this 
congregation, and being a young man and a bachelor, the 
deacons asked that he might have his home here with us, 
and Bessie bid her father agree. He is indeed a godly 
voung man ; also a learned and a handsome ; and such a 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 159 

change as he wrought here is most marvelous. The min- 
ister is a great patriot ; he is named Bowdoin ; he is from 
the old Bowdoin family. Of course Mr. Warley, who is 
ready to take precautions in case of the success of either 
side in this war — who says he must have two strings to 
his bow — will not resent and contradict any thing that 
Mr. Bowdoin may say or do. I am not surprised at his 
polite silence. But Bessie puzzles me. She does not 
come out fairly patriot, but she talks about loyalty, and 
conscience, and duty, and both sides being her brothers. 
But she has stopped the French songs, hidden the cards, 
sews, and knits, and talks of housekeeping ; and she has 
also changed to me. She is very kind, but she always 
calls me "child," and says I grow too fast. She affects 
to be very much older than I am ; and whereas once she 
would have me set up for a young lady, now she says my 
gowns are too long, and will not have my hair done like 
her's; whereof I am glad, for she tortured me fearfully 
with pins and powder. Bessie also began at once to go 
regularly to church, and I think the sermons did her a 
world of good, for soon she would have morning and eve- 
ning worship, and read her Bible of Sundays; so I would 
not wonder if Bessie became a very good woman now 
that she is away from the temptations of Boston. 

I liked Mr. Bowdoin very much also. He talked to 
me of my grand-parents, and I know he is a godly and 
patriotic man. I think Mr. Bowdoin is much in love with 
Bessie ; but though she is so very lovely to him, and in 
all ways tries to please him, I make sure it is only the 

pleasantness of her disposition and not a love for him ; 
11 



160 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

for Bessie has often told me she has set her heart on 
gayer life than here in a country parish. 

Thomas Otis came to see us. He has at last left 
school and got leave to join the army. He talks much 
of what he will do ; he will be as valiant as Samson or 
David. He spent the day, and we went to all the places 
where we have been together — to the orchard, the barn, 
the mill, the swing, the shore. He went away at .dusk. 
I went wath him to the gate, and gave him a bunch of 
violets, and he kissed my hand, and said we would never, 
never forget each other. When he was gone I went up 
stairs and cried, for fear Thomas might be killed, or lest 
he might forget me, as would not be wonderful. The 
second day after came Richard Reid. He has been long 
in the camp, and told us all about the taking of Boston. 
The British officers had no idea of losing the city ; they 
relied on the superiority of their troops and on Washing- 
ton's lack of powder. Many people had been allowed to 
leave that city on account of the scarcity of provisions, 
but very many who wanted to go were obliged to remain 
because General Howe would not permit any valuables, 
nor more than five pounds in money, to leave the city. 
I had asked Bessie how they managed, and she told me 
easy enough ; their money was all gone, their plate had 
been seized by their creditors, and she quilted her jewelry 
into her petticoats. The Royal troops had showed no re- 
spect to the good city. The South Meeting-house had 
been turned into a riding-school. Brattle Street and 
Hollis Street churches were used as barracks; the best 
houses were burned; Crean Brush had been allowed to 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



161 




THE OLD MILL. 

" We went to all the places where we have been together.' 



162 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 




FANKLIL HALL — BOSTON. 



jiillage all houses and stores not belonging to Royalists; 
Liberty Tree was cut into firewood, and Faneuil Hall was 
converted into a neat theater. Some of the officers got 

up a burletta to ridicule the 
Americans. It was called 
" Boston Bombarded/' and 
was jesting at the idea of 
the patriots getting the city. 
While they were playing it, 
and the people were ap- 
plauding, in ran a sergeant, 
crying : 

" The Yankees are attack- 
ing our works ! " 

The spectators thought 
this a part of the play, and clapped and shouted at the 
man's fine acting, but stopped short when General Howe 
started up, roaring: 

" Officers ! to your alarm-posts ! " 

That broke up the play, and they never had a chance 
to finish it. General Howe found that he coidd not hold 
the city, and he and General AVashington being equally 
desirous to avoid bloodshed, the Royalists went out, one 
Sunday morning, and the Americans then came in. 
There was great joy in all Massachusetts, and soon great 
sorrow, when people found their homes and public build- 
ings ruined, and the North Chapel, the AVest Church 
steeple, and the Prince's Library used for fuel. But this 
is war ! I said to Richard Reld : 

" But how did you know all these doings in the city?" 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AQO. 163 

" I was there," he replied. 

" You? AVhy, you endangered your life?" cried Bessie. 

" As well mine as another man's," he said, cooly. " I 
am old enough to die; and General Washington needed 
some one there." 

He then turned the conversation, for Richard Reid 
neither talks about what he has done, nor what he will 
do. He told us much about General Washington, and 
we asreed that he must be the man of all others worth 
the seeing. Mr. R.eid quoted from the address of the 
Legislature to the General: 

" Go on, still go on, approved by heaven, revered by 
all good men, and dreaded by tyrants. May future gen- 
erations, in the enjoyment of that freedom which your 
sword shall have established, raise the most lasting monu- 
ments to the name of Washington." 

Mr. Reid says that under the General's direction Boston, 
within a week, returned to peace, and order, and industry ; 
wrecks were cleared away, trade was resumed, provisions 
came in, the churches were opened, the Thursday evening 
lecture was recommenced, and the General attended. 

Bessie seemed much interested in all that Mr. Reid 
said — as Desdemona, she asked this Othello to tell his 
story again and again ; so gracious indeed was she that 
Mr. Bowdoin looked hurt. After Mr. Reid was gone 
Bessie was very unkind. She said : 

"Our Abbey is a sorry coquette for her age. There is 
Mr. Reid, her admirer — " 

I cried out : " Oh, Bessie ! how can you say what is so 
very untrue?" 



164 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

"And Thomas Otis, her sweetheart this three years" — 
so I ran crying out of the room; and after that Mr. Bow- 
doin was more pleased with Bessie. 

May 10, 1776. 

By this time I Avas to have started for Philadelphia; 
but yesterday I had a letter from my Uncle John Tem- 
ple saying that one of his servants had been taken with 
small-pox, and that I was not to come to him until all 
danger of that disease had passed, so I am to wait longer. 
But things go on better here since Mr. Bowdoin came. 
He helps me with my studies; and I suppose it is being 
in the lonely country that makes Bessie so industrious, 
for as soon as I began with my books she began also, 
and Mr. Bowdoin takes great pleasure in helping her. 

I can scarcely realize that it is three years since I sat 
here under the apple tree, where I am sitting now, and 
great-grandfather was with me, and the uncles were com- 
ing to keep the birthday, and grandfather and grand- 
mother were alive and well. But now they are all gone, 
and I am sixteen, and alone in the w'orld. 

All the Colonies are declaring themselves independent, 
or intend to do so at once; and doubtless the Congress in 
Philadelphia will announce an American nation — at least 
Mr. Bowdoin says they will. 

The Colonists have had some great success. In Caro- 
lina, in February, they routed the Kegulars, and got fif- 
teen thousand pounds sterling, in gold, just from Eng- 
land, and two chests of medicine, besides wagons, and 
horses, and arms. New companies are being enlisted, 
although the men are sure of hard fighting, poor fare. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 165 

almost no clothes, and scarcely any pay. General Wash- 
ington says it is this heroic self-sacrifice which assures 
the triumph of the cause of freedom. 

Last evening I went to see Hannah Dana. The Deacon 
was feeble all winter, but his leg is mended at last, and the 
rest has done him good, for now he is heartier than ever. 
After I had spent some while with Hannah I prepared to 
come home, and she walked with me until we came to 
the Deacon's last field, lying next Isaiah Hooper's. Says 
she : 

"There is my best black hen! I know she is stealing 
a nest." 

" Then it is on the top of your fodder-stack," I replied, 
"for I saw her there as I came by; so, Hannah, do you 
stop here and I will climb the stack and bring you the 
eggs. How does the silly bird expect to bring chickens 
down from such a place ? " 

As there was no ladder nigh, we laid two fence-rails 
against the stack, and I, being nimble at climbing, 
essayed to go up, when we heard Deborah Samson cry- 
ing to us, and saw her beckoning us. 

" Let her come," said Hannah, and as I climbed' the 
stack she signed to Deborah, who ran over the fields at a 
great pace. I found no eggs; but as I searched the top 
of the stack I found a bundle done up in a square of 
unbleached linen, and forthwith I threw it down, and, 
coming after it, undid the knots, and lo ! a man's new 
suit of coarse fustian, some shirts, socks, and kerchiefs; 
also a powder-horn and belt — and all the articles were 
new. Hannah cried, "What's this?" And just as I 



166 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

said, "I saw exactly a bit of this fustian lying on the 
floor of Deborah Samson's room last week/' Deborah 
herself had climbed the last fence and stood by us. I 
cried, '^ Just look ! " But Hannah suddenly picked up 
the coat and held it up by Deborah, then said, " Oh ! 
thaVs it, is it?" and I, turning, saw the two looking into 
each other's eyes — Deborah with her lips firm set, but 
unabashed, and Hannah nothing reproving. I blushed 
in Deborah's behalf, and screamed : 

"Oh! you can not mean it! Never do it!" 

" When is it to be ? " asked Hannah. 

" To-morrow night," said Deborah. "And now, as you 
have found me out, you shall cut my hair like Joseph's. 
And promise me, both of you, that no matter what stories 
rise about me — no matter how evil or how false — you 
will neither of you open your mouths to tell where went 
Deborah Samson. You stole my secret, in a way, now 
keep it ! " 

We promised ; but I essayed to beg her to alter her 
mind. 

" Talk to yon setting sun ! " said Deborah. 

"And what name will you have ? — trust me with that," 
said Hannah, " so that two at least may weep when a 
patriot falls." 

" Robert Shirtliffe" she replied. " Hannah, you could 
do this as well as I. Let us go together, and one can 
protect the secret of the other." 

" No," said Hannah ; " that can not be my way. I 
respect my father and my mother." 

"And I have none to respect ! " cried Deborah, sharply, 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



167 



"so this can be ray way. And having nothing else to 
give the country, which is the sole object of my love, I 
give her a strong arm and an unerring shot ! " 

And now — this 
evening — H a n n a h 
is to cut Deborah's ^-=~ '«^^ 

hair, and Deborah, 
in her soldier's dress, 
with a musket on her 
shoulder, is to set out 
for camp, and will 
enlist for the war. 
I admire Deborah's 
zeal, but I think her 
way of showing it is 
wrong. But Han- 
nah and I will for- 
ever keep her secret, 
and I shall always pray God to protect poor Deborah. 

June 1, 1776. 

My uncle has written for me to come to him at Phila- 
delphia. My boxes are' to be sent by a sailing vessel 
from Plymouth, but as so many coasting vessels are cap- 
tured now, it seems safer on laud than by sea. And I 
am to go with the colored people, and some one who will 
be found to go with me, on horseback. 

Hannah Dana has left home. She took a wagon-load 
of stores and set off for camp, and she will stay with 
Joseph so long as she can find work to do in mending, 
cooking, or in nursing the sick. Joseph is with General 




DEBORAH SAMSON AS " ROBERT SHIRTLIFFE." 



168 



PATRIOT AND TOBY: 



Putnam. General Washington has gone to Philadelphia. 
Our army in Canada is said to be ruined; but we have 
had a victory at sea, and captured a ship with fifteen 

hundred barrels of 
powder. I should 
think that would 
be enough to end 
the war. It seems 
as if every body in 
the world could be 
shot with fifteen 
hundred pounds of 
powder — but Mr. 
Bowdoin says not. 
I feel very, very 
sorry about Mr. 
Bowdoin. I wish 
he had never come 
here. I am afraid 
Bessie is acting a 
very wicked part. 
Nervey called my 
attention to it first ; 
and though I bade 
her be quiet, I no- 




BESSIE AND MR. BOWDOIN. 



ticed things afterward which I did not before. Mr. Bow- 
doin loves Bessie with all his heart — not the real Bessie, 
but the Bessie that is outside ; the pretty-looking Bessie, 
and a heart Bessie, which he has fancied her to be, and 
which she has pretended to be. I dare not set down all 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 169 

her deceits ; one is enough. She pretended to him either 
that she gave away our pewter to be melted, or that she 
cheerfully assented before it was done. Not before me 
did Bessie say this, but Mr. Bowdoin, in his admiration 
of his made-up Bessie, said to me : 

" How noble of your cousin to let her household ware 
go off to be melted into bullets ! Few young women 
could cheerfully make such a sacrifice." 

I stood dumb. I could not bring myself to contradict, 
and Bessie not there ; and yet I felt like a liar, standing 
silent. AVell, one morning last Aveek, I sat reading in 
the common room, and Mr. Bowdoin and Mr. Warley 
came in talking, and not caring for my presence. 

" Well, sir," said Mr. Warley, " I neither consent nor 
refuse. I am not of a mind to have my daughter marry 
just now, but I shall not decide for her; I can not be re- 
sponsible for a girl of her age." 

Mr. Bowdoin presently went off to Plymouth, and Mr. 
Warley, seeing Bessie in the garden, called her, and 
began : 

" Daughter Bessie, you are going too fast and too far. 
Have you given up your ideas of a British officer, that 
you have said you would marry a Yankee parson ? " 

Bessie pirouetted about on her toes, swept a curtesy, 
and said: 

" Please your honor, I did not say when I would marrj' 
him ; and perhaps I shall change my mind before the 
time comes. Besides, the one lesson -which your paternal 
wisdom has taught me is to have two strings to my bow." 

"Oh! that's it, is it?" said Mr. Warley, looking posi- 



170 P'^ TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

tively relieved. '' I thought you had nearly fixed your 
mind on Captain Banks?" 

" Captain Banks is not here," said Bessie, " and one 
must have some interest and excitement in the country, 
or one would petrify." 

" Bessie Warley ! how can you talk so of the worst 
form of deceit? If you deliberately try and break the 
heart of such a good man as that God will judge you!" 

"Your Puritanism has not made you civil," said Mr. 
"Warley to me, angrily. And Bessie first laughed, and 
then called me jealous and spiteful. I felt so grieved for 
the just man who must be cheated by these two, and hurt 
in his best feelings, that I took opportunity to suggest to 
him that Bessie was not in heart a patriot, but was re- 
solved, if possible, to marry a British officer and go to 
England ; but he said, coldly : 

" Mr. Warley said that you were not friendly to your 
cousin because she has the farm. Now, as it is her's by 
right, you should not feel enmity nor jealousy; and I 
could not believe that you did, until now that you have 
shown it." 

The cruel, hasty, blind, unreasoning man that he is ! 
Now let Bessie make a fool of him if she wants to. He 
will not be warned, nor use any prevention — let him take 
the consequences ! 

June 14, 1776. 

I have been very unhappy since my last writing. I 
have no one to say a word to of any of my troubles. 
Mr. Warley hates me; Mr. Bowdoin thinks I am deceit- 
ful, evil, jealous of Bessie, and a slanderer of my cousin ; 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 171 

and Bessie, while she petted and spoke nicely to me, was 
just amusing herself and showing off before Mr. Bow- 
doin, whom she pleases her vanity by fooling into a 
belief that she will marry him " as soon as father is 
reconciled to the thought of losing her, and the troubles 
of the countiy arc settled ; she can not marry in the 
midst of civil war ! " Very nice for Bessie, who can 
dance, and flirt, and play cards in the midst of civil 
war ! 

. On the 11th Mr. "VVarley got some letters, and he 
came home from Plymouth and began talking to Bessie 
in his loud fashion, that can be heard all over the house, 
Mr. Bowdoin was away for two days. Mr. AVarley cries 
out : 

" I tell you, daughter Bessie, w^e 'd best go back to 
Boston. This affair with the parson is going too far. 
The rebels are not going to have the war their own way, 
and you can do better than marry a Yankee preacher. 
If we go to Boston we will be in at the death, and T may 
get the Hancock mansion, or some other. The king is 
sending over the best troops in Europe, and this war will 
be closed up and these rebels punished in a six-months. 
My letters assure me of it. You have taken possession 
of this farm, and we can rent it, perhaps. Let us to Bos- 
ton. The parson can do that much for us : to look after 
our interests here and get us a tenant if he can. Let us 
be off, and perhaps we will go to Xew York before 
long." 

At the word of Xcio York, Bessie was wild to go; so 
they patched up some story, and yesterday away they 



172 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

went, leaving poor Mr. Bowdoin to lament for them, hunt 
them up a tenant, and live in the full conviction that I 
am Bessie's most artful enemy. But what odds? I am 
to be oif to-morrow. I wrote to Mr. James Warren, 
sending him my uncle's letter bidding me come and say- 
ing that he would find homes and work for our black 
people. Mr. Warren was looking for some one to take 
me to Philadelphia, when so it happened that Deacon 
Dana must go, and I am to go in his care, and to-mor- 
row we set off. The journey will be safe enough, for 
roads and weather are good, all is quiet along the way, 
and if one keeps clear of companies of soldiers all is 
well. My goods are off from Plymouth by ship. I hope 
I shall ever see them again '. 

July 10, 1776. 
We Avere up early on the morning of the 15th of June — 
indeed, before daylight. Mr Bowdoin is to stay at the 
farm for the present, and the old woman who keeps the 
house for him got us a breakfast. After breakfast I stood 
in the door looking at the garden, the well, the old apple- 
tree, as they shone out in the pink dawning, and the tears 
came into my eyes for the life I was leaving forever, and 
the cold, lonely life that was to come — so it seemed to me 
that morning. Mr. Bowdoin came to me and spoke very 
kindly. He said he knew God would take care of me and 
bless me He also hoped he had not spoken too harshly 
to me, but it was part of his duty to reprove faults, and 
he had felt obliged to speak of the only ones he had ever 
seen in me — jealousy of my cousin because of the farm. 
Well of all things! All my real faults — and, as my grand- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 173 

mother said, they are many — this good man could not see; 
and, being enlightened by Mr. Warley, he saw the one 
fault I do not possess : jealousy of Bessie. I am sure I 
love Bessie for what is pretty, and sweet, and amusing in 
her, and I only dislike her faults. As to the farm, I am 
very glad it is hers, as she tells me it is her all. 

ISIr. Warren had made all arrangements for m^e. He 
had sent me a good, strong, easy-moving horse and a nice 
saddle. The saddle had a large bag, wherein I packed 
what I needed to carry for the journey. I had also a 
great cape and a hood strapped where I could easily get 
them, and a big pocket at my waist. The horse I rode 
was bought to be kept by my uncle; but the colored peo- 
ple had two big farm-horses, which will be sold for army 
use. Pompey being very short in the body and long- 
legged, and carrying his legs stuck widely out as if he 
had no knee-joints, looked so queerly that I could scarcely 
ride for laughing. Such a picture as was Pompey: his 
feet very big, his legs very thin, his coat lined Avith red 
and a world too short in waist and sleeves, a quantity 
of white shirt with flapping ruffles, and his saddle-bags so 
stuffed, and such a pack tied behind him, that his horse 
looked like a dromedary with a hoe thrust forth on each 
side. Moreover, Pompey thought every tree a soldier and 
every sound a shot ; his teeth chattered, and he was like 
to fall from his horse from very fear. On the other horse 
rode that imp Peter, dressed to match his father, save that 
his breeches were green, and he had huge brass buckles. 
Peter was in as great fear as Pompey ; but the boy had a 
more immediate cause for part of his terrors, namely, his 



174 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

mother^ who rode on a pillion behind him, and vowed 
that she wonld " punch 'e on 'e head ef he showed a white 
fedder." But Nervey herself was a sight to cheer the un- 
happy. Besides being short and prodigiously fat, she had 
not been on a horse for years, and she hugged Peter about 
the waist until he was breathless, and she showed several 
" white fedders " by screaming whenever her horse made a 
fast step; however, fortunately the beast was too burdened 
to be frisky. Nervey was dressed in her best, with a hat 
of her own braiding; and her gown being short, and never 
in place, she showed a pair of stout legs to the knee, well 
clad in blue hose of her own knitting. Peter carried a 
basket on his arm ; and crouched on a bundle strapped in 
some fashion behind, Nervey has her favorite cat, which 
carry she would ; and in a great pocket in her apron was 
a yearling cock, which she had raised from the egg, and 
could not part with ; so this bird crowed in a constrained 
fashion at intervals to revive his spirits and our own. 
This was our procession, headed by the Deacon on a fine 
roan — the Deacon being clad in decent homespun, having 
a broad-brimmed hat and well-stuffed saddle-bags, and 
going steadily forward in deep meditation — while I came 
next, followed by Nervey and her penates, and Pompey 
bringing up the rear in a state of great uneasiness and 
confusion. 

Our road lay from Plymouth to Taunton, thence to 
Providence, thence on to Norwich; from Norwich to Had- 
dam, and after that to New Haven ; from New Haven as 
direct as possible to White Plains; then, avoiding New 
York, to Newark, and by way of Trenton to Philadelphia. 



ONE HUNDBED YEARS AGO. 175 

This "svas a wonderful route to me, who had never left 
my home within my recollection. "We were on the way 
two Sundays, when we tarried over at taverns, and duly 
attended meeting. Our only rainy day was one of these 
Sundays. Our horses were in excellent condition, and we 
met with no misadventure, thanks to the kind care of 
God over us. AVe were twenty days on our journey, and 
each morning before setting out, and each evening before 
retiring, the Deacon had us all together for worship. By 
degrees the fears of Nervey of falling, and of Pompey 
and Peter of soldiers, wore off, and they proceeded with 
much content. 

But I must set down some two or three facts about our 
journey. 

On all our road we were constantly meeting parties of 
men going to the different camps, or messengers riding to 
and from Congress, and wagons loaded with provisions 
and other things needful for the soldiers. AVe stopped 
over night always at the public house where we had 
chanced to come by our day ride, and full often we were 
the only guests. Then the black folk went to the kitchen, 
and I stayed with the hostess and her daughters, and the 
Deacon sat in the tap-room with tlie host and a man or 
two of the t()wnspe()})le who luid dropped in, and they 
drank cider betimes, and discussed the affairs of the coun- 
try, and also theology; and the Deacon was csjjecially 
Aveighty on the iniquity of our whole nature, and on Ad- 
am's transgression. There was no lack of good fare, and 
T would tlie men in camp were served so well. At supper 

we were given cider, tea (of livperion,) boiled and roast 
12 



17(3 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

meat, cakes and pie, for fourteen pence each ; our break- 
fast woukl be milk, tea, corn porridge, bacon, eggs and 
bread, for ten pence each. It was our way to take a wallet 
of food and tarry by the roadside for our dinner, resting 
for an hour or so. I had not known that the Deacon 
could talk much, he being a man of few words, save M'hen 
stirred up by politics or theology ; nevertheless he made 
himself gracious and companionable to me, and told me 
much of his young days, and of his father's early life; 
also of his conversion, when he was twenty, and of his 
courtship and marriage. By this talk he beguiled many 
long hours. 

About one mile before we entered Providence, we came 
upon a cam}) of recruits. The officer in command was 
known to the Deacon, and they delayed to exchange a few 
words. A knot of soldiers were pleased to make game 
of Nervey and her cat, boy,^ and cock. The officer 
checked them, and Nervey was offended at them, and on 
her dignity, and Pompey so quaked with fear that the lid 
of our dinner-basket rattled amain. I turned aside and 
hid my eyes under my hat, not liking so many to be 
gazing curiously at me, when suddenly I saw, leaning on 
a musket, a handsome young soldier, and lo ! it was no 
other than — Deborah Samson. We recognized each other 
at the same time, and Deborah turned aside in great 
trouble, then looked at me again. I beckoned her : 

"Soldier, would you bring me a drink?" She made 
haste and handed me a cup of water. I took it, saying 
softly: "Do not betray the cause of your country. I 
never betray any one who has trusted me." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



177 



She took back the cup with a bow. No one had heard 
me, but one soldier said : 

" Ha, Bob, 'tis thy good hioks has helped thee." 
And here Nervey felt called on to interfere : 
"Xow, Missey Abbey, don' you hab nottin' to say to 
dey strange people. Your grandmother nebber like dat 
nohow." 

And just then the Deacon rode on, to my great relief. 
As I said, we were twenty days on our journey, count- 
ing the Sabbath, when we rested. It was on the morn- 
ing of the fourth day of July that we came to Phila- 
delphia. 




THE RTATK-HOfSE IN 177G. 



My Uncle John lives on Chestnut Street, about a 
square below the State House. As Ave entered the city 
we found men, women, and children all hurrying one 
way. Pompcy cried out that the " Regulars were making 
a iight," and was for fleeing by tlie way he had just 
come, but Xervey conjectured that It was a fire, and 



178 P-'^ 'J^RJO T AND TORY: 

wanted to hurry on to see it. We rode on, such a queer 
spectacle that many of the hurrying jieople paused to 
look and smile ; tired horses, stuffed saddle-bags, deacon 
in broad-brimmed hat, young maiden, Pompey, Peter, 
pillion, Nervey, bag, basket, cock, and cat, for surely 
Nervey had brought all her possessions safely through 
the journey. Finally the deacon called to knoAv whither 
people went, and why, and one replied, "To the State 
House, to hear independence proclaimed." So, it lying 
in our way, and in our wishes, we pressed on also, and 
were presently on tlie outskirts of the greatest cro\vd 
which ever I had seen. The State House seemed to me 
a very magnificent building, and my head fliirly whirled 
at the idea that the chiefest men of the nation were now 
within considering of that most weighty question, whether 
we Colonies should be free. I would that Mr. Warren 
and Dame Mercy had been there with me ! All eyes 
were to\yard one place ; all ears waited for the one sig- 
nal ; the Congress was sitting with locked doors, and the 
people without knew that the thirteen Colonies, through 
their representatives, were arguing our Declaration of In- 
dependence of Britain. Suddenly the bell in the State- 
house steeple rang out a joyous peal, and the multitude 
shouted aloud. Other bells caught up the sound; guns 
were fired ; men shook hands ; women kissed each other 
and cried; children were bidden to remember what took 
place this day, and over all the sea of faces shone the 
light of a confident joy brighter than shines the sun on 
the waves of Plymouth Bay. Then one standing near 
my horse's head leaned forward and asked Deacon Dana 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



179 



did he know what words were cast upon the bell that 

rung in the State-house steeple, and the Deacon said nav. 

He told him : " The words are these, ' Proclaim liberty 




THE HOUSE IN WHICH THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE WAS WRITTEN. 

throughout all the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof.'" 
And all at once I recalled what ray great-granfather had 
told me of the day when he, a youth of sixteen, stood in 
the High Street of Edinburgh and heard William pro- 
claimed king; and with the memory of that fair ^lay day, 
and that good old man, who is not here to listen to this 
new proclaiming of liberty, I bent my head to my horse's 
neck and cried. 

"Come, then," said the old deacon, "the child is 
weary." And as we cduld not thread the throng, we 
passed about another street, and so arrived at my uncle's 
door. 



180 



PATRIOT AXB TOBY 



Now, as we drew near I saw one on the stone portico, 
looking toward the State-house stee'^Dle. She was some- 
what tall and stately, so that she might be one's model 
for a queen, M'ith her head hold up, and her shoulders 
thrown back, as would have pleased my grandmother, her 
face was so beautiful that it seemed nothing in color, or 
feature, or in shape could be more lovely; she turned as 
Deacon Dana lifted mo from my horse, and hastening to 
meet me, she took me in her arms with a welcome both 
like that of a mother and a sister, and so I knew that 
this was my eldest cousin, Judith, and that here in her I 
had found that woman who was brave, and strong, and 
deep of heart, and yet who was fair and gracious like an 
angel, as I had often hoped that I might see. 

Then with her arm around me, my cousin still lingered, 
looking toward that bell of freedom, and could not for a 
time leave the sight of the happy 
multitude shontino; at a nation's 
Ijirth. But while she looked, she 
sent for servants to care for the 
horses, the lug-o-aQ-e, and the black 
people ; and she told the Deacon 
what had been the recent doings of 
Congress. 

But now as I write, Cousin Ju- 
dith looks in at my door, and shakes 
her head, which means that I must sit up no longer to- 
night, and I must leave all further writing for to-morrow. 




INDEPENDENCE DEI.L. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 181 



CHAPTER VIII. 

July 14, 1776. 
'\ TY Cousin Judith is the mistress of her father's house, 
■^^ her mother being death My uncle has a son Charles, 
older than Judith, a daughter, Susannah, who is seven- 
teen, and a young ward of fifteen, named Hester. A 
teacher comes to the house to give lessons to Susannah, 
Hester, and me, in French and on the harpischord; the 
girls are also greatly desirous of being taught dancing, 
but my uncle, being of Puritan training, will not hear 
thereof. My uncle has a large library, indeed of several 
hundred volumes, and each morning when the household 
is in order, we go to the parlor with Judith, and while Ave 
work, one of us reads for half an hour, and then another, 
and so the third, and Cousin Judith questions us, and 
makes pleasant and instructive remarks. 

AVe all practice two hours a day on the har])sichord, 
and study our French for one hour. Sometimes Judith 
allows us to read ]K)etry, as Milton's Coiims, or Samson 
Affonistes, or Mr. Poi)c's Dunciad, but she does not think 
much poetry to be good for young people. ]\Iy uncle 
gave us to read a new book that he had from London 
through ]Mr. Seaforth ; 'tis " Winier Evening Confer- 
ences," by Doctor Goodman. He puts us at this because 
he thinks Susannah, and Hester, and I are likely to be 



182 



PATRIOT AXD TORY 



led off by the gay young friends in this city to idle pur- 
suits, and gaieties which are unbecoming. My Cousin 
Judith keeps Pompey and Nervey in her own family, and 
hath found a phice for Peter not far off. I have not gone 
much out into the city, but it seems to me as fine as Bos- 
ton almost, and the trees are large and lovely, and make 

me think of the coun- 
try, but I miss the 
sea and the salt, brisk 
breezes that blow over 
the waves. 

^yhen I first en- 
t e r e d m y uncle's 
house, and saw • how 
beautiful and how wise 
my Cousin Judith is, 
and how pretty and 
witty, like Bessie, only 
truer, the younger girls are, and how fine were the clothes 
and furnishings, money seeming abundantly plenty, it ap- 
peared to me that every one under this roof must be mar- 
velously and perfectly happy. Also, when I saw my Cousin 
Judith standing in the portico with eyes intent on the 
State-house, and face of joy at hearing that bell proclaim- 
ing freedom, how could I tell at what a cost to Judith 
that bell was ringing, and can I now guess how great in 
the end that cost may grow to be? Moreover I do not 
think Judith realized it herself. My uncle is good, and 
wise, and stately, and liberal; my two young companions 
are bright and pleasant ; while my Cousin Charles is a 




PHILADELPHIA AND VICINITY. 



OSE HUSDRED YEARS AGO. 



183 



young mail who would quite distract my Cousin Bessie — 
until she saw another. But my Cousin Judith is tlie 
center of this home. I am sure she must write books. 
I have no doubt that these hours when she is shut iu her 
own rooui she is 
writing those 
wonderful books 
which are pul)- 
lishcd iu Eng- 
land. 

' Mr. Seaforth 
live s but t w o 
doors from my 
uncle, and the 
friendship be- 
tween the two 
families is close 
indeed, for Mr. 
Seaforth has but 
two children. Henry, the son, is engaged to be married 
to my Cousin Judith, and Annie, the daughter, is to be 
the wife of my Cousin Charles. And now between these 
families, so united in heart and life, comes this war — for 
Mr. Seaforth and liis family are just as strong, consistent, 
and conscientious Royalists as my uncle's family are Pa- 
triots. 

^Ir. Seaforth and his son Henry were in Xew York 
when the Declaration of Independence was proclaimed. 
They had been there from the "ZOth of June, and only 
came Ikjiiic on the 12th of this month. AVe have had 




INDErENDEXCE IIAI.I.. 



1 84 P^i TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

some strange scenes here. Since the Declaration every one 
sees war to be certain, and enlisting soldiers for the war 
is going on every-where. My Cousin Charles has until 
now not felt himself needed in the army. He is very 
important to his father in their business, and on Annie 
Seaforth's account of course he could not readily enter 
the army. But from the 4th of July he has been very 
much preoccupied in mind, and has hardly eaten or slept. 
His room is above mine, and I heard him pacing up and 
down for hours in the night. I felt such pity for him 
that I could not sleep. Judith watched him without a 
word, but just as his anxiety grew did hers, and one 
morning as she came into the breakfast-room where he 
sat with his head on his hands, he cried out to her in a 
pitiful way : " Help me, Judith ! Advise me." And she 
answered: "I can not — you are deciding for us both," 
and then she ran to her room, and did not come down 
for a long while. On the morning of the l'2th, Charles 
went out as usual, early, and before long Annie Seaforth 
came in, and went with Susannah into a little room off 
the parlor, where some flowers were kept. The door 
between this room and the parlor was open, and Hester 
and I were there sewing with Judith, when in rushed 
Charles, looking very excited, and crying, ^' Judith, I 
have done it ! I have enlisted f )r the Avar, and am to 
raise a company. I could not withhold my arm from my 
country in her need — but, oh, what will Annie say?" 

Annie had heard him, i\iu\ she was already standing in 
the door between tlie two rooms, Avith her face as white 
as the dead. She and Charles stood lookino- at each other 



OS E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 185 

for a moment and then she said, "Oh, Charles, will 
you be a rebel, and fight against ray king?" Charles 
replied, "Annie, I must be a patriot, and fight for my 
country." 

Annie turned away her face, she was too heart-broken 
to cry. Charles went close to her and said, " Will you 
hate me now, Annie?" Susannah put her arm around 
her. Annie said, " I can not hate you, Charles — but — 
but" — then she could say no more, and she turned as if 
to go away. Charles offered to go with her to lier home, 
but she said she would rather have Susannah. 

It was a dreary day. We all felt as if a great sorrow 
hung over us; and though Judith kept us to our lessons 
and work, we had no heart in them, and Charles went 
away and did not return until 5 o'clock. 

At 6 came iNIr. Seaforth and his two children, and we 
all gathered in the parlor. Mr. Seaforth said: 

" In truth, friend Temple, this is an ill-judged motion 
of these Colonies. They shut the door of conciliation 
with the King, and in the evil ways of rebellion draw on 
them the whole anger of Britain. I could hardly believe 
the thing possible when I heard that Mr. Washington 
had had the Declaration read to all his soldiers — whom 
I do not call rebels out of spite or contempt, but because 
it expresses a fact, as I look at it, and I can see it in no 
other light." 

" My good Harry," said my uncle, " I conceive the 
cause of the Colonies to be the most righteous in the 
world. AA'e contend for the inalienable rio-hts and liber- 
ties of men. Xot we, but the Kinsr, are contumacious. 



186 P^i TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

And by the help of wise and valiant men like General 
Washington^ please God, we shall succeed." 

" We have often argued this matter," said Mr. Seaforth, 
" and we are no nearer agreeing. AVe have often said, 
John, that nothing shall break our friendship, nor shall 
this civil war. I would, for very friendship's sake, go 
over to your side if I could ; but my conscience is clearly 
for loyalty, and rebellion is to me a sin as black as mur- 
der; therefore I can not rebel. Like Luther, I must say: 
'Here stand I, I can not do otherwise: God help me.'" 

"Why, Harry," said Uncle John, "that word of Luther 
is my watchword, and by it I am put on a far different 
platform than you — even on the cause of the Colonies. 
I tell thee, Harry, yon stout old German scattered seed 
more widely than he knew; and this that you call rebel- 
lion and / call the cause of righteousness, is a part of 
his harvest. That seed that he planted w^as carried to 
England, and thence being transmitted to America finds 
in these Colonies a most congenial soil, so that we can 
type it as the kingdom of heaven. It was 'the least of 
all seeds, but when it is sown it groweth up and becometh 
greater than all herbs, and shooteth out great branches, 
so that the fowls of the air may lodge in the shadow of 
it.' I tell thee, Harry, our children's children shall see 
this land a refuge for all the oppressed." 

Mr. Seaforth shook his head. 

"'Tis dreaming, 'tis hopeless, John. How will you 
succeed? Only ruin is before you. Men, money, dis- 
cipline — all are wanting. You patriots are brave — brave 
in an ill cause. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 187 

"As to the men," returned my uncle, "they are plenty — 
not less than two hundred thousand capable of bearinsj 
arms. As for money, the resources of all the peojile will 
be laid on the altar of liberty. There is Robert Morris 
■will give his fortune; and they shall have mine to the 
last shilling. And more than the money, and dearer 
than the money, they must have — even my son. Believe 
me, Harry, it is not liking to cross your wishes or those 
of your family, but it is on the lad's heart as duty to 
serve his country as a soldier." 

Annie was looking out of the window. I knew she 
was only doing this that her tears might be unperceived, 
and I, sitting near her, softly took her hand for sympa- 
thy's sake. 

" In truth, my poor John," said Mr. Seaforth, " your 
money may as well go to the Colonies, if your support 
and mind go with them ; for in the end all that you had 
would only be confiscated by Britain. You have said that 
your daughter shall marry my son, and Annie shall be 
wife to Charles, and I will not withdraw from it; but 
little did I think that first these two lads must stand in 
opposite armies! For truth is, John, since the King has 
called on all loval men to join his standard I dare not 
hold back my son from the cause of his sovereign — aye, 
I must go myself, were I not too old." 

Judith grew a little paler and looked quickly at Henry 
Seaforth ; and Henry looked to the full as unhappy as 
Charles. There was a silence, and then Mr. Seaforth 
said : 

"I follow my convictions of duty, and I know that you 



188 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

do the same — I respect while I regret your course. But 
now, friend John, I know thy proud spirit, and I come 
here to take time by the forelock. Let us enter into a 
compact. This war shall not disturb the relations of 
these young people. And there is another thing: promise 
me that if your cause fails, and your property is con- 
fiscated, thereafter we shall all be one family, and you 
will share my purse like a brother — nay, like rni/sclf!" 

At these words Uncle John half shook his head. 

"To the agreement about our children, Harry, I say 
amen with all my heart; but as to the property and the 
purse — " 

"Why, man," cried Mr. Seaforth, "you say the Colo- 
nies will succeed, so the promise for you is a safe one — " 

My uncle's face brightened suddenly. 

"Look you, Harry, if I promise that to you will you 
enter into like treaty with me? If your side loses will you 
share my home and purse? 

"Aye, aye," said Mi\ Seaforth, as readily as might be; 
for he thinks the sun can as readily fall from heaven as 
the King's party be loser. 

" As for the young people," said my uncle, " let them 
make treaties for themselves. But here, you and I will 
have this down in black and white, duty signed and wit- 
nessed, that if the Colonies win the day, and your prop- 
erty is confiscated, you will, without demur, use my home 
and my purse until you are on your feet again." 

"Aye," said Mr. Seaforth, "that will do well if, for 
your part and agreement, you do fully pledge yourself to 
the same." 



OXE IIUXDRF.D YEARS ACW. 189 

So Hester was sent for my uncle's writing-desk, and 
straightway those two ohl friends wrote out the said agree- 
ment, and made a copy for eaeii, and duly it was signed, 
\vc all setting our names as witnesses; and each of them 
feels assured that his party will be the victor, and that he 
has entered into a compact not for the benefit of himself, 
but of his friend ! 

My Cousin Judith and Henry Seaforth were to have 
been married next winter, and Charles and Annie in an- 
other year, for Mr. Seaforth thiitks Annie too young to 
marry now; but this dreadful war has changed all their 
plans. Judith says she can not marry a Royalist officer 
(for Henry is to have a commission) while her own sym- 
pathies are so entirely with the Colonists that she could 
rejoice in none of her husband's triumphs, and sorrow^ for 
none of her husband's defeats. Also, she can not marry 
Henry now when he and her only brother are arrayed in 
opposite armies, and either might be made a })arty to the 
death of the other. She therefore says the marriage must 
be put oif to the end of the war, whenever that may be (I 
wish it would come to-morrow) ; and she will meanwhile 
pray only for a speedy and honorable settlement of diffi- 
culties, and for Henry's preservation. In this Judith does 
not decide for herself alone; Annie Seaforth takes the 
same views — and so this civil war comes to separate these 
four, who have loved each other for years, have grown up 
together, and have expected to be all in all to each other 
all their lives. I asked Cousin Judith if she had ever 
tried to persuade Henry to take part with the Colonists, 
and she said no; that loyalty to the King of Britain was 



190 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



a matter of conscience with him; he had been trained in 
it as part of his religion, and she shoukl not respect 
him if he conkl lightly cast it aside. So here, and in Mr. 

Seaforth's, we are all 
busy preparing to send 
soldiers to two oppo- 
site armies. AVhcn we 
have been in Mr. Sea- 
forth's for a half-hour 
I know that Judith 
wished to take part in 
the work they were do- 
ing, yet would she not 
lend one finger to fit 
out an enemy to her 
country, even though 
that enemy is her lover. 
However, she had one 
present for him, and 
that was her Bible. 
She took it to him the 
night before he went 
away, and he gave her 
h is prayer-book — the 
one his mother gave 
him when he was confirmed in ]Mr. Duche's church. Henry 
Seaforth went away first; he went to join the army under 
Lord Howe, encamped on Staten Island. Charles did not 
leave until three days later; he Mcnt into the Jerseys. It 
was truly a sad morning, that of his going; and, like the 




MAP OF THE JEP.SEYf 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 191 

friends of St. Paul, we sorrowed most of all lest we might 
see his fiicc no more. There was little breakfast eaten, 
though Xervey had done her best to prepare every thing 
that Charles liked. After breakfast the family came for 
worship. Uncle prayed very fervently for the country, and 
for the success of the Colonies; then he laid his hands on 
Charles's head, and solemnly consecrated him to the cause 
of the Colonies. He prayed that he might be a good 
soldier of Christ, and a good soldier of American liberty; 
and he prayed that God would make good to those who 
trusted in Him, the word that a thousand should flee from 
one of them. After this we all bade Charles good-bye 
with what grace we might, for he is the best of sons and 
brothers, the right hand of his father, and the light of the 
house. Then we all went to the door with him, where he 
was to mount his horse, and though tears streamed down 
our cheeks we Aviped them away and said " good-bye " 
again as cheerily as we could command. Just then Mr. 
Robert Morris came by, and he saw the affair in a minute. 
He took Uncle John's hand, and his lip trembled a bit 
as he said : 

"So, friend, you are sending off your only son for the 
cause of the country?" 

Uncle John drew himself up with that motion that 
makes me think of great-grandfather, and replied: 

"Aye; and if he were ten sons, all should go cheerily 
in so good a cause." 

And so Charles is off. He belongs to the regiment 

that is to go to Elizabethtown, under Colonel Dickinson 

(Farmer Dickinson). My Uncle John says that this 
io 



192 PATRIOT ASD TORY: 

choice of a Colonel is very bad, for tlie Farmer is a 
scholar and not a soldier, and he is only half-hearted 
about fighting ; he had rather carry on a war and build 
up a country with his pen ; but uncle says pens must give 
way to swords in this age of the world. 

Colonial affairs are in a dangerous condition. I think 
the stoutest hearts are trembling. New York is in a sad 
state ; but I fancy, from Uncle Matthew's letters, that 
affairs go better in Virginia. I wish we Avere all in Vir- 
ginia. That State has Patrick Henry and AYashington, 
and fjoes on so verv bravely as if it feared nothing. 

Just here Cousin Judith sat down by me, and looked at 
that line, and said : 

"And has not Connecticut gallant old Putnam ? and 
Massachusetts had Warren; and Pennsylvania has Frank- 
lin ; while Adams, and Otis, and Randolph, and Rutledge 
grow into names too numerous to mention. The Colo- 
nies, Abbey, are one — their cause is one — the honor of 
their sons is one ! " 

As Cousin Judith spoke her face grew brighter, and 
the smile of pride in her country drove away that look 
of patient pain which seems lately to have settled there. 

Speaking of Putnam, it is said that he is to come here 
to Philadelphia to take charge — and — I have seen Frank- 
lin ! I was standing, last evening, on the portico with 
my Cousin Judith, when a brisk, broad-hatted old gen- 
tleman, very neat and nice in his dress, and with very 
beautiful ruffles, came up the street and paused a moment 
to speak with Judith. She begged him to enter the 
house, but he plead that he was busy. 



OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



193 



"At least, then," said Judith, "permit me to present to 
vou my young cousin, who will be happy all her life from 
liaving seen Doctor Franklin." 

I blushed crimson, and the marvelous old man smiled ; 
and as I bowed low 
he patted me on the 
head, saying : 

" It takes but lit- 
tle to please chil- 
dren." Then he 
said: "Doubtless 
this little Puritan 
maiden is a patriot, 



and- 



-can 



?pin 



9" 




DR. BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. 



"Truly, both," 
said Judith. "She 
was brought up by 
her grandmother." 

" Grandmothers," 
said the Doctor, 
" are ancient inventions, which never can be superseded 
by any thing better." Then he smiled again at me, 
saying : " Child, mind thy wheel, and thy book." 

And so he passed briskly up the street. He is seventy 
this very year; but I would have only guessed him some- 
what past fifty. I said to Judith : 

" What makes him bear his age so wondrous well?" 

She replied : 

"Having something worth doing, and doing it. Ciood 



194 PATRIOT AND TOR Y: 

activities keep people young ; they arc better than the 
fountain De Leon went after." 

Cousin Judith believes much in the value of activity, 
and she keeps us all busy in one way or in another. She 
is not quite so strict in some of her notions as is Uncle 
John. She allows us, now and then, to learn a ballad to 
sing to the harpsichord ; and she does not think it a waste 
of time for us, once in a while, to read a story. My 
grandfather allowed me to read the plays of Shakespeare, 
whereof he had a copy in his library. My grandmother 
thought it a fearful book for me to so much as touch ; 
but my Cousin Judith's opinion lies between the two; 
she allows ns to read aloud from Shakespeare such por- 
tions as she has selected. 

My boxes arrived safely at Philadelphia, and my books 
are set up in my uncle's library. 

I think, perhaps, Judith has gotten some of her ideas 
from ^Mistress Seaforth — a most gentle and elegant lady, 
who, as she is from England, and is an Episcopalian, is less 
severe in some of her ideas than my grandmother was. 
Mrs. Seaforth, when we are sitting at her house, often 
reads to us from plays or jioems, and tells us tales of 
London life. 

AVe have at my Uncle John's a long attic, which Cousin 
Judith had Xervey make neat, and gave to Susannah, 
Hester and me for our divertisement. We do as we like 
up there, and it is a very pleasant place. Susannah has 
up there a family of kittens, and a cage with three tame 
mice. Hester has two or three old musical instruments 
of various kinds; and along the walls, and in certain 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 195 

boxes, are old gowns and bonnets, and cardinals, hoops 
and petticoats, and wigs, and fineries, -which have collect- 
ed during a lone; number of years. Here we often take 
our voung guests, who are too lively to be in the parlor 
where Uncle John is. Hester has not been used to that 
degree of quiet and strictness that I have, and Susannah 
also is not like what I would imagine for Uncle John's 
daughter; they are something like Bessie, but not quite. 
I write my journal up in this attic, keeping it locked up 
in grandfather's desk, which has been set here for me 
since it came with the books. I lock it lest Hester, in 
her mischief, should add to my diary, or take therefrom ; 
she is especially anxious about the dates, which I often 
leave out, as here I have written on from the date of 
July 14, more than a month past. 

"SVe girls also write poetry, which we read to each other. 
I try to write like Mr. Milton, thinking that the best 
style; but I can never match it. But the other two say 
they care nothing for style, so they can make a jingle ; 
and they make their poetry much faster and funnier than 
I do. We also make tales to tell each other; and Hester 
made one of a Knight named Mr. Brown, who lived in 
Spain, and had his house and stables and all his goods 
made of gold. I ul)jected to her that this did not look 
natural, and, moreover, that Mr. Brown was not a Span- 
ish name; but she said it made no odds, so long as it 
sounded Ayell ; and, leaving out the unnaturalness of it, 
it sounded very well indeed, for Hester's tongue went 
just like the running of a summer brook. 



196 



PA TRIO T AND TOR Y: 



August 20, 1776. 
New York is in a sad case. The British have amassed 
a hirge army there, and it is thonght that Washington's 
army must leave the city. General Greene is very ill, and 

we hear, through 
my uncle's friend, 
John Livingstone, 
that the citizens are 
in a panic lest the 
British shall burn 
all things up. Gen- 
eral Putnam is go- 
ing to Long Island. 
It is said that the 
army of Lord Howe 
is the finest in the 
world. Captain 
Henry Sea forth 
writes to his mother 
that they are most 
valiant and well equipped, but that many of the best, and 
Lord Howe himself, feel that there is little glory or good 
to be gained in being sent against a part of their own 
people, as are the Americans, and he would that the war 
ended at once. He says some men break their parole, and 
others ill-treat prisoners and plot to murder Washington, 
recognizing the Americans only as a mob of rebels. For 
his part, he looks on them as most noble foes, and he longs 
only that his king shall see fit to make honorable treaty 
with them. Both armies are now lookin": for a battle. 




GENERAL GREENE. 



ONE HUNDRED YEAES AGO. 



197 



ry^: A 





1^1 ' --k ^■^^^'■^ 



72 ? -J *-;i ,#V.*>Flarl)Usll' 



-"","( 




,' ,''3 Oravesend 



September 10, 177G. 

There has indeed been a terrible battle on Long Island. 
The Patriots were defeated, with loss in killed and prison- 
ers of one thousand. So horrible are the reports that have 
come o f cruelty, a n d 
murder of the prisoners 
that I said I could never 
forgive the British; but 
Judith said why charge 
the crimes of the frantic 
few on a nation who, as 
a wdiole, will loathe 
them; we may hear some 
as evil deeds from our 
o w n m e n sometime — 
which may God forbid. battle of long island. 

General Washington has retreated from Long Island. 
Well, Ave have lost a thousand men and an island, but we 
have not lost our cause. 

My uncle met Mr. Eobert Morris yesterday, and he says 
that affairs look very black. Indeed, I am loath to chron- 
icle any more disasters, and I shall not put a date in my 
journal, nor tell of ill luck any more, until I can offset it 
with good news. I think that it is in the effort to throw 
off our feeling of public troubles that we girls — being, as 
Cousin Judith says, of an age when sorrow seems most 
irksome — were ready to enter into any expedient to make 
ourselves merry, and many a time do we ask our young 
companions into our attic to engage in some sport. I 
know not what other feelino- it was that set us to the idea 



198 PATRIOT ASD TORY: 

of playing a theater ; and truly, now that it is over, I quite 
wonder that I did not do more credit to my up-bringing 
than to take part in it, but so I did. I think it was Hes- 
ter that first proposed it, and that on an evening when ^ve 
had been visiting Mistress Seaforth, and she had told us 
of her going to the Drury Lane Theater, in London, and of 
the actors and plays and dressing — for these are things 
that ]Mistress Seaforth likes sometimes, although there 
Judith is far from agreeing with her. Well, as I said, 
that night Hester came stealing in a white gown to the 
room where Susannah and I were in bed, and she argued 
for a theater in the attic, and would have Mr. Seaforth's 
niece and a neighbor's son of fourteen to help us; and 
thereupon, to show how well she could act herself, she 
raged about the room doing what she called tragedy, in 
the moonlight, with her hair flying over her shoulders, and 
pretending to slay herself and the bed-posts (which she 
made out to be her enemies) with a curling-iron. So Su- 
sannah fell in wdth the plan, and I, having held out stoutly 
for a time, agreed to yield, as is my silly custom — only I 
would not play a true theater play, but to quiet my con- 
science, would have them play Mr. Milton's Comnf<, and to 
that, as they could make no other accommodation, they 
too agreed; and the next day we laid the plot before our 
neighbors. In short, we were all enchanted with our new 
sport, and we spent all the time we could command in 
the attic acting Comiis; and, finally, to make it look the 
finer, we laid a stage and spread it with a damask hanging 
from the best bed, and brought up some of the pot flow- 
ers to make a forest, and laid a range of towels to make 



OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 199 

out a riycr; and having lit nine clip-candles and set them 
in sticks, and eke in bottles, with two in huge silver can- 
dlesticks from below, we undertook to have a grand rep- 
resentation by candle-light, and I was as full of the idea as 
any of them. 

Now Nervey being low in spirit for her farmyard, her 
loom and old Maple, I begged that she might come up, 
to cheer her mind; and then did Pompey and the young 
maid come also ; and we had, besides, three small guests. 
But as ill luck w^as, Nervey was so delighted with the per- 
formance that she must needs laugh, loud and long, ha! 
how! haw! and this sound from the attic fell on the ears 
of Uncle John, who had come up to his chamber to seek 
for an old copy of the Pennsylvania Journal and Weekly 
Advertiser. Uncle John, therefore, climbed on to the attic, 
and thrust his head in at the door, while we, quite una- 
ware of a new spectator, were doing our several parts with 
much gusto. 

"What! what!" cried Uncle John, "can this be? A 
theater under my roof, and my children decked out in this 
fashion ! " 

And so we all stopped, quite abashed, and would have 
fled, but there was only the door where Uncle John stood. 
But what does Uncle John do but with his severest face 
seize Hester by one hand, and nie by the other, and bid- 
ding Susannah go before, he led us, in all our trappings, 
down to the parlor, where sat Mr. and Mistress Seaforth, 
Miss Annie and Cousin Judith. 

"AVhat are these times coming to!" he cried. "I find 
these girls all ])erf(>rming a theater in the attic! And in- 



200 -P'^ TRIOT A^D TOR Y: 

deed I fear to ask what ungodly play they may have been 
poisoning their minds with !" 

Said I : " Uncle, it was Comus, by Mr. Milton ; and Su- 
sannah is the lady lost — and I am Sabina." 

"Oh, Comus," said my uncle; "Comus!" And Mr. 
Seaforth/ whose kind eyes had begun to twinkle at first 
sight of us culprits, did smile broadly, while Mistress Sea- 
forth, seeing me, who, for my long light locks, had been 
chosen for — 

" Sabina fair, 
Listen where thou art sitting, 
In twisted bands of lilies knitting 
The loose folds of thine amber-dropping hair" — 

a Sabina attired in a faded silk gown, a hoop, and one 
of Mistress Seaforth's ancient satin petticoats decked with 
gold lace, was nearly stifled with laughter. My uncle 
pushed Susannah and me forward, as chief offenders. 

" To think," he said, " that such well-taught damsels, 
and children of the Puritans, should enter into such 
folly ! " 

" I am very sorry," quoth I. " I should have done 
better if I had minded what my grandmother taught me," 
and I hung my head. 

"Truly, you could not have known of it, Judith?" said 
Uncle John. 

"No — not exactly kiiou-n of it," said Judith; "but I 
guessed something like it. And they are all good girls, 
father; and in these doleful days I was ready to give them 
any sunshine that they could contrive to find." 

"^yell, Judith," said uncle, smiling, "you are but a 



OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 201 

young mother for such tall maidens. It seems to me 
that playing theater may set them past Comus to plays 
that are vile and profane ; also, it may give them a taste 
for theaters. Therefore, Judith," Uncle John added, with 
that courtly deference he always pays to her who is queen 
of his household, "you will order them to play theater no 
more " — for uncle never gives any order to any in the 
house, but leaves this all to Judith. Therefore Judith 
said, but very gently, as having a share of sympathy for us : 

"My dear girls will hereafter find some amusement 
more in accordance wdth our father's views." 

And thus we escaped, while Mr. and Mistress Scaforth, 
were scarcely restraining themselves from shrieking with 
laughter. 

Returning to our attic we found that the servants had 
restored our borrowed goods, and carried off all the can- 
dles but one, in the light of which our three guests, in 
some alarm, awaited our coming. We began to take off 
our various costumes, and Susannah was sullen, and 
Hester quite angry at my uncle; but I, taking a word 
from my grandmother's wisdom (as usual remembered too 
late), said " it was doubtless w^ell to check evil in its be- 
ginnings." At this sageness they all laughed. And here 
Nervey came up with a dish of cakes to console us, and, 
those being eaten, our company went home, for it was 
very late — quite eight o'clock. 

The next day Judith requested that we would not so 
much seek to distract our minds from the fears and 
troubles that are raging about us, but that we would, by 
study of events, prepare our minds for any thing which 



202 P'^ TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

should happen ; that we would heartily pray for those ex- 
posed to the pains and privations of the camp and bat- 
tle; and that we should not only wish but work for the 
success of our country. She then said that this, our good 
city of Philadelphia, may be seized by the enemy, and 
while it may be in' their hands we can not give aid and 
comfort to our army; therefore it behooved us to do all 
that we can now; and the Patriot ladies, for this purpose, 
are meeting thrice a week at the house of Mistress Bache, 
the daughter of Doctor Franklin, and hereafter we were 
to go there with Judith by turns, and bring home what 
work could be done by us. 

I was the first to go with Judith. ]Mistress Sarah 
Bache is a comely lady, lively and busy, hardly yet of 
middle age. She is full of zeal for the country, but just 
now also harassed by fears for her father, who is on his 
way to France where he w'ill probably arrive by the 
middle of December. Our hopes of human help lie in 
France. At Mistress Bache's we were all making army 
shirts, also lint and bandages for the surgeons, and socks. 
Material will doubtless give out, for here, though many 
of the ladies (like Mistress Bache and my Cousin Judith) 
can spin, tliey can not weave, and it is difficult to get the 
loom-work done, and thus the thread lies idle after it is 
spun. AVe were more independent at my grandmother's ; 
and if Cousin Judith could get a loom set up, Nervey, 
and Pompey, and I could weave, I am sure. 

Judith did not desire us to be without relaxation, and 
we yet amused ourselves in the attic, until she said that 
as sharp weather was coming on we must leave that resort 



ONE HUNDRED YEA ES AGO. 203 

until spring-, lest being there we should take cold. And 
now some mischief possessed us surely, for, of all diver- 
sions, we concluded to close our occupation of the attic by 
a ball ! What Avould my grandmother have thought of 
that! AVe had five or six of our friends invited, and 
they were all to dress in the various garments which are 
stored in our attic. Nervey made us some cakes, and we 
also had cheese and apples — all being set out on a table 
before the window. Hester must have a chandelier, and 
therefore she tied candles to a hoop and hung it by a wire 
from the roof; the roof being low the chandelier was in 
our way exceedingly. 

Of course, at a ball must be dancing ; but thereof I knew 
nothing but to recall the minuet Bessie instructed me to 
Avalk several years ago. Hester understands a Virginia reel, 
and Susannah can, with a little prompting from Mr. Sea- 
forth's neice, dance a figure or two. By half-past five it 
was dark in the attic, and we began our ball. For music 
we brought uj) Pompey, who can play on the viol, and 
hath one (ancient and nearly worn out) which was for- 
merly a source of contention between him and my grand- 
mother, as she would never permit him to play on it in 
hearing from the house, and poor Pompey was obliged to 
solace himself w^ith his instrument in rear of the barn or 
stable. We had Pompey up for our orchestra, yet bid 
him play low — as, indeed, he could scarce do otherwise, 
having but two strings left, and these weak. Thus, to 
Pompey's music, we Avere dancing in high glee, when an 
accident befell Hester. She had on a green gauze train ; 
also on her head a hat that had been Avorn bv her aunt, 



204 P'^ TRIGT AXD TOR Y: 

thirty years ago, and on the hat she had set three long 
plumes, which my uncle had in his youth Avorn on train- 
ing days. Thus decorated, Hester dancing her reel to the 
same music whereto I walked my minuet, and the others 
w^ent through their contra dance, Hester in her zeal leaped 
under our chandelier, and her plumes, waving on high, 
caught fire in the candles, and her start brought one can- 
dle down on her gauze; therefore was poor Hester for a 
second blazing top and train; but I, being next her, 
dragged off the gauze and flung it aside, where it burnt 
up in a minute, while I stamped out the candle, and at the 
same time Pompey leaped forth and beat the blazing 
plumes between his viol and his hand, so that no sooner 
had Hester begun to shriek for fear than the fire was ex- 
tinguished ; yet would she not believe it, but flung out of 
the attic, and rushed down stairs screaming " Fire ! fire ! 
fire ! " with her hat with burnt plumes on her head, tat- 
ters of gauze at her waist, and an awful smell of scorched 
feathers accompanying her — thus into the very presence 
of Uncle John, who was reading his weekly paper. As 
for the rest of us, we fled amain, to take ofl* our trappings, 
and so our ball came to an untimely end. Judith was 
not a little amused at our misadventure, but Uncle John 
is in great perplexity concerning our ways. 

But thus, amid outer cares, and wars, and dangers, and 
home work, and study, and frolic, has winter come on. 
Philadelphia is now in daily danger of being seized by 
the enemy, and Congress may remove to Baltimore. As 
we hear from Charles, General Washington is more bur- 
dened and abused, and more heroic and self-forgetting 



OSE IirSDRED YEARS AGO. 205 

tlian was ever any man, unless William the Silent, but the 
public are in love with General Lee. Charles came home 
for a few clays, and from Avhat he tells us of General Lee, 
my uncle (a great discerner of character) says that he is 
a vain, fickle, selfish man, who would be better out of 
our army than in it, but none else think so. Mr. Reed 
and Farmer Dickinson are discouraged, and all, from 
losses and dissensions, look distressful. After Charles 
went away we had a visit from Richard Reid, who has ac- 
companied General Washington in his retreat through the 
Jerseys. Then General Putnam came here to take charge, 
and he orders no one to go out after ten o'clock at night. 
He has promised never to burn the city, but if the British 
capture it, to let it remain, in hopes of being recaptured. 
And so cold weather has come. The army melts away 
daily ; stores are wanting ; arms, and powder, and clothes 
are needed ; and the paper money is losing value every 
hour. 

January 1, 1777. 

Now at last may I set a date in my diary, and recount 
strange events and good news. But to begin a while 
back. I had, a month ago, a letter from Bessie, from New 
York. Having gone in the summer to Boston, and being 
disappointed in his expectation of the instant reduction 
of the Colonies, ]\Ir. Warley fearing to trust Bessie back 
at the farm, set to worrying General Howe for a position, 
and by dint of begging, and Iwrrowing, and promising, 
he got a place as purveyor, or contractor, or something 
other of that sort (Bessie is not very clear what), and so 
he and Bessie are at New York ; and Bessie writes me 



206 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 

that she has no end of new gowns, and compliments, and 
followers, and that money is plenty. Not one word of 
Mr. Bowdoin! She bid me write to her at once, and 
thongh Bessie is not a cousin by blood, Judith thinks I 
had better answer her, and keep up the cousinship, lest 
some day the poor girl, without mother or guide, may 
come to need a friend. I have told Judith all about 
Bessie. 

Mr. Warley's position does not cause me to think more 
highly of him. INIr. Seaforth had a letter by hand from 
Henry, and he says that by reason of the negligence of 
General Howe the contractors are, without exception, a 
set of villains and plunderers, and the army and hospitals 
suffer greatly thereby. 

On the 11th of December we had a day of fasting and 
prayer for the cause of the Colonies. Mr. Diiche's church 
kept it, many of them being Patriots; but while ]Mr. Sea- 
forth would not go to the church, lest outwardly he might 
identify himself with what he esteemed a sinful disloyalty, 
yet at home he kept the day strictly, praying that peace 
on a sound basis, honorable to the crown and grateful to 
the Colonies, might be granted. 

On the 15th of December we had a letter that came 
from Xew Jersey, telling of the capture of General Lee 
at "White's Tavern, at Baskinridge, where he acted what 
my uncle says was an insubordinate, rash, and dastardly 
part, and my uncle thinks the country well rid of him; 
but, poor man, he is likely to fare hard from the British, 
being charged with desertion rather than rebellion. And 
then for a few days all our hearts were on New Jersey, 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 207 

lest our commander-in-chief should he captured or routed, 
for great was his need and danger. If he failed in these 
days our cause had been lost indeed; but now these few 
days later I can write of a great deliverance. Yet must 
I stop to set down a prank of Hester's, which made a 
part of my history, and this it was: 

Hester, about the 9th of December, arranged with 
Susannah to dress as beggars and go at nightfall about 
among our nearest neighbors begging, with a pitiful tale, 
in order that they might see how far friends could be 
deceived, and also that thereafter they could cast up to 
them the answers which they might make to petitions. 
The girls had hinted the plot to me, and I dissuaded 
them, so I thought the matter had been dropped. But, 
unknown to all, off they went, and that on an evil night ; 
and thinking it part of their play to have ragged feet and 
uncovered throats, they got sadly wet, and came home out 
of conceit of their play, but said nothing until the next 
dav, when they were both ill ; and Nervey confessed to 
mo what the two had done, and I told Judith. Hester 
was ill indeed, and kept to her room, her throat being 
sore an.d her fever sharp ; but our poor Susannah had 
like to die; indeed, for days Judith did not leave the 
unhappy child's room, and all our hearts were desolated 
at the fear of losing our lively, loving girl. 

"While my uncle was thus heart-broken over his youngest 
daughter the battle at Trenton was fought. Our bravest 
of men crossed the Delaware in ice, and sleet, and dark- 
ness, and with but twenty-four hundred men. In such 

cold and storm this forlorn hope of the Colonies marched 
14 



208 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



fifteen miles, and at dawn fell upon the Hessians at Tren- 
ton. How my heart beat high for joy that it was our 
own good men of Marblehead who led that advance and 
manned the boats across the ice-full 
Delaware ! And what a victory was 
this! The Americans lost not one 
man killed, and only a few wound- 
ed, and their prisoners were nearly 
a thousand; also they took arms, 
standards, and field-pieces. And so 
in one hour — for this battle last only 
thirty-five minutes — did the Lord 
send, as if by an angel, our deliver- 
ance. 




BATTLE OF TRENTON. 



My Cousin Charles was in this battle, and on the second 
day after, we had word that he was wounded and lying at 
the house of a Quaker named Stacey Potts, which house 
has been the head-quarters of Colonel Rahl. The mes- 
senger said that my cousin's wound was in the leg and 
might not be serious, but the march and exposure had 
brought a fever on his chest. INIy uncle, hardly knowing 
whether Susannah would die or live, prepared to go to 
his wounded son, yet Avanted one to go with him to aid 
in the care and nursing, and also to prepare such food as 
might be proper for an invalid. While these thoughts 
were passing through his mind — for the messenger came 
while my uncle and I were taking a solitary breakfast — ' 
Cousin Judith had been called for and came to hear the 
news. She urged her father to set forth at once. My 
uncle turned to me and said. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 209 

"Abbey, you are not afraid to go within sound of 
guns ? " 

I replied quickly : 

"Xo, uncle. Why should I be? My grandmother bid 
me fear nothing but doing wrong. But I have acted such 
a silly of late that I did not know that you would trust 
me." 

"Girls will be girls/' said my uncle, kindly, "but I 
have ever found that, with the exception of Hester, they 
can, when there is a need-be, be women too." 

My uncle meant nothing unkind to Hester, who, with 
her pranks, is the life of our house. 

We Avere ready to set off within an hour. I rode the 
same horse on which I came from Plymouth; the mes- 
senger was provided with a fresh beast, and we all had 
our saddle-bags stuffed with things needful for our invalid. 
The day was very cold, but I wore Judith's fur cloak, 
which came from England, and also a fur-bound hood 
and a pair of fur-lined Indian moccasins; and so, with 
double mittens of my grandmother's knitting, I was warm 
enough, and the ground being frozen we rattled on at a 
fine rate. AYe stopped once or twice to warm and get 
something to eat and drink, also in mercy to our horses, 
l)ut made such good time that we were at Stacey Pott's 
before nijrht — the ni*rlit of the 28th. 



210 PATRIOT AND TORY: 



CHAPTER IX. 

Januaky 10, 1777. 
11 TY duties as a nurse do not leave me very much time for 
my diary; and just now I find more matter than usual 
to set down therein. 

When we reached Trenton we found Cousin Charles 
somewhat feverish and suffering much from the wound in 
his leg ; but his state was by no means dangerous, and he 
said that the pleasure of seeing us almost paid him for 
being wounded. We did not tell him of Susannah's ill- 
ness, but excused Judith, as the housekeeper could ill be 
spared from home. 

We found that General AYashington had drawn off his 
troops and re-crossed the Delaware on the night of the 
battle. Colonel Rahl had died on that same evening, and 
had been buried the next day. In all the exhaustion of 
his night march and victory, General Washington had yet 
found time to call upon his dying enemy and offer him 
what consolation a Christian soldier mieht brine:. Rahl 
was surely a brave man, but surely not a good man. It 
was a drunken carouse that made him lose Trenton and 
his life. So out of his sin and penalty has come our 
good. Having left Hahl, the General looked in on 
Charles, and himself gave orders to have his father sent 
for. Was there ever such a man, who forgets nothing ! 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



211 



I felt most grieved tliat I had missed seeing him, whom 
Mr. Robert Morris calls "the greatest man in the world;" 
but I had little time for vexation, as I had my cousin to 
wait upon, and a letter to write home, to tell them how 
we fared. Mis- 
tress Potts was 
very good to me. 
I like Quakers 
very much: their 
words and their 
ways are so rest- 
ful. There were 
two or three men 
in and about the 
house more or 
less w o u n d e d ; 
and a daughter 
of Mr. Potts was 
grazed by a ball 
passing close 
over her head, 
and from the jar 
on her brain, and the fright, keeps her bed, though her 
hurt is not serious. 

On the 30th of December, at evening, General Wash- 
ington returned to Trenton with part of his troops, and 
the rest came next dav. I heard a rumor of his coniino, 
and wrapping a cloak over my head, I ran toward the end 
of the street where he would pass. I did not tarry to ask 
my uncle — he might have said no, and I must sec General 




GENERAL WASHINGTON". 



212 P'i TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

AYashington. The crowd was great, but I got on a door- 
step, and I saw him passing by : calm, grand and grave. 
Surely God never made such a man as that for a less work 
than create a nation. He is the man who puts his whole 
soul into what he does. I have heard that he, and Gen- 
eral Stark, and others, have pledged their whole fortune 
to the expenses of the army, because tlie public credit and 
public money are exhausted. I asked my uncle if I had 
any money that was worth giving to let me give it all to 
the cause of the Colonies ; but he said that would not be 
doing his duty as a guardian. 

Soon after General Washington reached Trenton, report 
Avas that Lord Cornwallis was coming up. The American 
army, about five thousand strong, lay near Trenton on 
New Year's Day. My Cousin Charles, on that morning, 
being more able to talk, told us that being wounded in 
the leg he fell, and a Hessian rushed forward to kill him 
with a bayonet, and would so have slain him as he lay, 
but one of the bravest of a company of Connecticut men 
sprang forward, and, having no charge in his musket, 
seized it by the barrel and fairly beat off the Hessian 
with the stock, and after helped to carry him from the 
field. Uncle and I expressed strong desire to see the pre- 
server of Charles. About two hours after, when I came 
up from the kitchen, where I had been making a lotion, 
uncle said that Charles had sent a servant to bring in his 
brave deliverer, if he could be found, as the Connecticut 
company were then in the town ; and shortly after we 
heard steps in the entry. I was bending over Charles as 
the door opened, and he said : 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 213 

"Here i^ my noble Robert Shirtliffe!" 

I whirled about, and there, shaking hands with my un- 
cle, stood a soldier — Deborah Samson ! She dropped my 
uncle's hand, and stood, hardly knowing what to do ; and 
I felt myself looking amazed and foolish, while my uncle 
said : 

"Abbey, speak to the deliverer of our poor Charles." 

It Avas no time to look silly and tell-tale when a friend's 
secret was in danger, so I stepped forth and shook the de- 
/ liverer's hand, saying : 

" Uncle, I have met this soldier before. Robert Shirt- 
liffe went from near my grandfather's." 

My cool manner reassured Deborah, who, recovering, 
asked how Charles did, and told the army news. My un- 
cle desired to make some return for kindness done, and so 
said — blundering for him — that the country did little for 
soldiers — pay was always in arrears, many comforts were 
wanted, and so on — drawing toward an offer of a reward ; 
but the soldier said : 

"No, no!" — and lower, in my ear, "for j^iti/'s sake no!" 

And again I ventured to the rescue, saying : 

" Uncle, our Massachusetts people do good for good's 
sake. Let us leave Cousin Charles hereafter to do as much 
for — Robert Shirtliffe, and Robert to repeat the favor for 
Charles, if need be. It is pleasant enough to this soldier 
to have saved a relative of my grandfather, who was well 
beloved by all who knew him." 

So, with another hand shaking, off went Robert; and, 
looking aftsr that strong, straight figure in faded, mended 
soldier's dress, I could hardly believe that my fancy had 



214 PATRIOT AND TOBY : 

not been playing me tricks, and that this could be the 
Deborah Samson whom I had taught to spell, sitting long 
ago under the shadow of Daddy Hooper's stone Ayall. 
However, we had brought Charles shirts and socks and 
flannel in plenty, so I made up a portion of his supply 
into a bundle, tied in two large kerchiefs, and sent them 
by my cousin's servant after Robert Shirtlife, as a present 
for a good soldier. 

'Tis a comfort to know that our poor weary, bare- 
footed, ragged men have just been well reclothed by sup- 
plies from Philadelphia; and glad am I to think that I 
helped prepare some of these things. And it does now 
seem to me that I can hereafter waste no more time, but, 
as I have seen how our Patriots suffer and need, I must 
spend all my hours and strength working for them. 

On the night of the 2d of January General "Washing- 
ton Avithdrew toward Princeton, but very secretly, leaving 
the camp-fires burning. It was a cold night. As I had 
been closely by Charles for several days, I persuaded my 
uncle to walk out with me after dark. We saw the camp- 
fires of the British on all the low-lying hills, where they 
w^ere stationed for the night. The sky was cloudy, and 
only now and then a star shone through the rifts. We 
saw the figures of the sentries pacing near the distant 
fires; and now the piles blazed up, and now died away, 
and shone again as the guard replenished them with 
more fuel. All along the banks of the Assanpink 
beamed the watch-fires of the Americans — a wall of light, 
reflected in the stream below. There, too, now and again, 
passed the dark figure of a guard ; and we knew not that 



ONE HUNDRED YEAES^AGO. 215 

from behind those ramparts of flame our soldiers Avere 
even then stealing toward Princeton, to strike another 
blow for liberty. And as I stood there watching the 
blaze that rose in a Mall along the Assanpink, I thought 
of the Children of Israel, forty years in the wilderness, 
led by a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night ; and 
I asked in my heart that God would lead our Patriots 
through their cloudy days, being with them in what seem 
dark dispensations, and be their flaming pillar by night, 
until out of these their troublous wanderings. He brings 
them into a land good and all their own. 

It seems that Lord Cornwallis knew not what his foe 
was doing until, next day, a dull, heavy sound echoing 
among the hills told that war had w^oke up at Princeton, 
and to this far-oif bellowing of cannon he marched in 
haste, to save his magazines at New Brunswick. The 
Americans had the day at Princeton, but — lost Mercer, 
another of our best men. 

On the 5th we had a letter from Philadelphia, and that 
by Pompey. Of all things I can not guess how Judith 
got him out of the shelter of home in these troubled 
times. True, the road is safe, but Pompey is such a cow- 
ard ; indeed, he had grown several shades lighter from 
very fear. I had him at once to the kitchen, and Mis- 
tress Potts ordered him a meal. I said to him : 

" "Well, Pompey, however did you, who are so afraid, 
make up your mind to come here by yourself." 
Pompey replied : 

"Tell 'e what, Miss Abbey, Pomp mighty 'fraid ob 
soldiers, but 'e more mighty 'fruider ob Missey Judith, 



216 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

when she hab her miii' made up. Den when she say go, 
Pomp 'bliged to go. But clere, now, Missey Judith ought 
to knowen better; she know me too ole to raise 
nodder set ob teef, and yet she sen' me 'long wid dese 
all knockin' togedder wid fear till like to knock 'em 
out." 

Still I think all his teeth were there, for he ate most 
heartily. 

Judith's letter was all good news : Hester quite recov- 
ered, and Susannah much better. She sent by Pompey 
what he could carry, and bid us give it to other invalids 
if Charles did not need it. Part of Judith's letter I 
copy here : 

" Early New Year's morning, just after daylight, there 
Avas a violent knocking at our door, and I, trembling lest 
bad news had come, ran myself to answer; but there 
stood Mr. Robert Morris. He asked for you, and I told 
him you were absent, waiting on our wounded Charles. 
He said : 

"■ ' Well, Miss Temple, I want money, hard money — 
what can be spared, if 'tis only a crown. I must send 
monev to that hero and c^reatest of men, Washington, mIio 
is carrying all this country on his own shoulders.' 

" I said I liked not to break open your escritoire in 
your absence, but I had fifty Spanish dollars for the 
housekeeping by me, and he must have that. He would 
not enter, so I ran for my money, and coming back I 
saw Mr. ]\Iorris dart from our door-stone to meet a portly 
Quaker, out thus early in the day. I heard him say : 

" '■ Money — hard money — all that you can spare, friend^ 



ONE HUNDRED YEAES AGO. 217 

to send to my Washington, who carries a load too great 
for mortal man.' 

" ' Robert/ said the cautious Quaker, ' what security 
can thee give me?' 

"'My note, and my honor!' cried Mr. Morris. 

"'Well, thee shall have it,' said the Quaker. 'Thy 
honor is good; so is thy note — verij.^ 

" Just as Mr. Morris returned to me, and I Mas mourn- 
ing at the smallness of mv donation, I remembered that 
I had among my treasures an hundred Spanish dollars, 
which my blessed mother had given me on my birthday, 
and which, since she has gone, has seemed too precious to 
spend ; but I bethought me her gift was not too sacred 
for the cause to which we had devoted her only son; so 
I begged j\Ir. Morris to tarry once more, and I ran for 
my keepsake, which I gave, not without some tears on 
^ the way." 

I dare say that, of the fifty thousand dollars which 
Robert Morris sent General Washington, many were 
given, as were Judith's — willingly, and with tears. 

All the people are devoted to Washingtan, and call him 
the American Fabius. It is strange that such a man can 
have enemies and opposers, but so it is. INIy uncle said 
to me, the other day, when I lamented this : 

"He will have only eulogizers among posterity. All 
nations will unite to honor such men as Washington and 
Franklin. Their names and their virtues will be an in- 
heritance for the world." 

The General has now gone into winter-quarters at 
^lorristown. The conduct of the British army in the 



218 P-i TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

Jerseys has not helped their cause. The piUage, burning 
of houses and shiughter of cattle, depredations committed 
even on Loyalists, have embittered the people. The for- 
eign mercenaries are used to great cruelties and extor- 
tions in warfare, do not speak the language of the people 
among whom they have come, and have no ties of sym- 
pathy and kindness with us. It has been found impossi- 
ble to restrain them, and they have robbed friend and foe 
alike. The Howe brothers are said to be friendly to the 
Colonists as a people, and also are of a bounteous dispo- 
sition, but, being naturally indolent, they do not restrain 
their soldiery ; and thus this fair domain, that, my uncle 
says, was of late rich, peaceful and beautiful, is a scene of 
piteous desolation. I think nothing has more angered 
the Patriots than the employment of Indians against 
them ; and the several addresses Avhich General Burgoyne 
has made to these savages have tended to influence all 
minds against his cause. And I dare say that this course 
has not met the approval of the better people in England. 

February 1, 1777. 

AVe are now home again in Philadelphia. Charles re- 
covered rapidly, and was able to be brought here, to 
remain until he is fit for active service, which we hope 
will be soon, AVhen we reached my uncle's house, even 
while the family were embracing Charles, I ran over to 
Mr. Seaforth's, thinking Annie would be glad to hear at 
once how Charles had borne the journey; but even while 
I was speaking to them, in came my uncle. He kissed 
Annie, and said : 

" Come, my girl, your presence will be the best medi- 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 219 

cine Charles can have. These clays are too evil for cere- 
monies, and you young people must take what comfort you 
can, for surely you have fallen upon evil times. I have 
come to fetch you to stay with us while Charles is home, 
it may only be for a fortnight." 

Annie looked wistful but did not answer, glancing at 
her mother and father. 

" Go, my child," said Mr. Seaforth ; " I know you have 
carried a sad burden this last month." 

"Yes, go," said Mistress Seaforth embracing her; yet 
added, "and what will I do? Without a companion here 
I shall break my heart thinking of Henry's dangers and 
poor Annie's trials." 

" I must even lend you a daughter," added my uncle. 
" If I take Annie I must leave you a pledge in her place. 
Susannah is but an invalid yet, and Hester a true kill- 
peace. You can but take Abbey. I can recommend her 
as witty and wise." 

And this is how I came over to bide with Mistress Sea- 
forth, and have been here a week. At the first it seemed 
odd to me being here. I had never heard prayers read be- 
fore; yet Mr. Seaforth leads his worship with fervor; and 
when he begins to pray for Henry he goes beyond his book, 
pouring out his heart. It also did but jar on my ears 
hearing the King prayed for, and I could not join in pe- 
titions for the success of his arms. But good Mr. Sea- 
forth adds, of his own mind, such hearty desires for a 
sparing of the Patriots, and that they may be brought 
willingly and heartily to their allegiance, that his prayers 



220 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

can not be painful to me, though I do not hope the Lord 
Avill answer them as Mr. Seaforth intends. 

I thought it not gracious to Mistress Seaforth to bring 
to her house my sewing for our sokliers, therefore I took 
sewing for my cousins, that they, relieved of using their 
needles for themselves, could do more for the army. Be- 
sides this sewinff, I embroidered a deal for Mistress Sea- 
forth, who congratulates herself that she hath in store 
from Germany vast quantities of materials for this sort 
of work. Mr. Seaforth also had lately sent by a friend 
from London, through an officer joining Lord Howe in 
New York, a parcel of books, and of these I have been 
reading to Mistress Seaforth. They are the works of 
Doctor Goldsmith, and are a tale called the " Vicar of 
Wakefield'' and two poems, namely, "The Traveler" and 
th.e " Deserted Village;" and as I read these to Mistress Sea- 
forth, over them we both laughed and wept. I told Mistress 
S. that it seemed surely as if Doctor Goldsmith had known 
my grandfather, before he conld so well describe him as 
the good pastor in the "Village" How happy a land 
must England be, where such books are made and printed, 
and where the very streets and towns are as pages out of 
histories, written with the wonder-stories of the past, and 
where there are such beautiful castles and toAvers, like 
pieces out of fairy tales! Mr. Seaforth had also with these 
another book called "Animated Nature " which I am to 
take home to read with my cousins, as it will be vastly 
improving to ns. It is only about four years since it was 
printed; I never saw so new a book before! 

AVhile I have been here with Mistress Seaforth I had 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 221 

another letter from Bessie. She tells me she is havino: 
very gay times. The markets are supplied in abundance; 
her father gives dinners, and card parties, and dances, and 
is even thinking of a ball; also, she has not seen "the un- 
mannerly face of a creditor" of late. There are theaters, 
to which she goes often, regarding it "almost as a pious 
act to do so, as the officers hold the plays for the benefit 
of soldiers' widows and orphans." There is much playing 
at faro. Bessie has been " introduced to General Howe, 
and he paid her a compliment." Also, Captain Banks, 
whom Bessie knew in Boston, is coming down from Carle- 
ton's army to be in New York, and Bessie is glad, for she 
"likes him prodigiously." She concluded by saying that 
she meant to write to Mr. BoAvdoin, from whom she had 
"had a most devoted letter, only a bit too full of pious 
counsels. Still, Mr. Bowdoin was a very pretty man, and 
she must not forget the only lesson her father had ever 
thought it M'orth while to teach her : that it was well to 
have two strings to one's bow." Poor Bessie, poor Bessie ! 
I let Mrs. Seaforth read the letter, and she said it made 
her heart ache to think of the pretty, silly damsel, up 
there among such evil companions with no one but a bad 
father to guard her. And next morning the dear lady 
said she could not sleep for thinking of that young girl, 
motherless and friendless. "What if it had been my An- 
nie?" said she. 

"Well, qucerly enough, I had a letter next day from Mr. 
Bowdoin. He says the farm is let to a good man, and he 
himself thinks of going into the army. He says the 
young men are needed for soldiers; let the men too old 



222 PATRIOT AS D TORY: 

for ^var serve the churches, in their wisdom. But at the 
last the true meaning of his letter crept out — he wanted 
news of Bessie. He supposed it was hard for her to get 
a letter out of New York to Massachusetts. He thought 
the city a dangerous place for her. If she would consent 
to leave New York and be married he would then see it 
his duty to remain at Plymouth to care for her. I read 
this letter also to Mistress Seaforth. She said : 

"Why does the girl despise a love so honest? "Write 
her to leave New York and marry this man." 

" Mistress Seaforth," I said, mischievously, " he is a 
rebel I " 

" There are worse than rebels in this w^orld," she re- 
plied. 

And I did write to Bessie as she bade me, putting in all 
the wise counsel that came from good Mistress Seaforth. 

April, 1777. 

Some long while ago Cousin Charles returned to his 
regiment, and has since been in several skirmishes and 
has escaped unharmed. We are almost daily expecting 
this city to be seized by the enemy. Of course Mistress 
Seaforth will not regard that as a misfortune, as it may 
bring her son near her. We are all very active in making 
up what supplies we can for soldiers, as, in event of Lord 
Howe coming here, we can do no more good works of 
the kind. 

In March, General Washington exchanged some pris- 
oners with the British. There was a deal of trouble, be- 
cause the captives taken by our side had been well fed 
and kept in open air, and the prisoners made by the 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



223 




British had been kept starving in horrible old hulks and 
crowded prisons, deprived of air, exercise, and clean 
clothing, until they were as skeletons, and too sickly 
to go into ser- W 
vice; also, 
many of them 
are burned up 
with fever, or 
sinking under 
consumptions. 
"Well, after long 
delays, by va- 
rious divisions, 
some of these [ ^-^^^ 
unhappy he- prison hulk, jeksey. 

roes — far more to be pitied than those who fell in 
battle — were got out and sent, some of them (as were 
able) to camp, some to their homes, and some, who were 
too far from home, were carried here and there to towns, 
or farms, to recover as they might, for money, and medi- 
cines, and hospitals are wanting, and private charity is the 
resource for these, who have laid down their lives for our 
sakes. So it was that on the second day of this month, being 
sent by Judith on an errand to Mistress Bache's, as I was 
returning I saw a man like a skeleton sitting on the curb- 
stone of the sidewalk, truly too feeble to proceed on his 
way. His long hair was unkempt, his clothes ragged and 
foul, his eyes sunken in his head. How I recognized him 
I know not, unless, as grandfather often said, mine eves 

are sharper than others ; but lo ! it was no other than our 
15 



224 P^ TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

old neighbor, Isaiah Hooper. The recognition came upon 
me as a flash, and with it a picture of the morning when, 
on old Maple, I rode to Mistress Brown's for tea, and 
passed this Isaiah Hooper, cheery and stalwart, striding 
through the fields with his sowing-bag at his waist, his 
home, with wife and babes, lying safe behind him, and the 
promise of plenty in all the smiling plain. So, springing 
to his side, and but half able to speak his name, I began 
crying like a baby. He looked up, a little light gleaming 
in his faded eyes, and said : 

"Surely 'tis Abbey Temple." 

And there was a sound in his hollow voice as if it did 
him good to see a familiar face. But how should it? 
Mistress Seaforth would have spoken sweet, kind, sooth- 
ing words, and Judith would have seemed so strong and 
brave that the very sight of her would have been succor. 
Interpreting the thoughts of foolish me, who could but 
stand crying, he said: 

"Yes; this is what I am, after six. months' captivity 
dying, far from wife and children, if, indeed, I have any." 

"Oh," sobbed I, "you have them. I but now heard 
from the minister, who says all are well. And do not say 
dying! My Uncle John, whom you have met, lives 
near, and you will go with me, and we will nurse you, 
and cure you. But — how can you go so far as two 
squares ? " 

"I can do that," he said, and essayed to rise, and I 
helped him, and, as he shook like an aspen, I had him 
lean on my shoulder, and moved slowly. People turned 
to stare after us, for I was neat, and dressed as became 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



225 




"Isaiah Hooper, striding through ihe lields with iii.. 



IS sowing-bag at his waist." 



226 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

my station, and poor friend Hooper — wet, ragged, and 
dirty — looked the beggar-man indeed. I think he would 
have fallen, although my news of his family had been to 
him as wine, and renewed in him a flash of vigor, but 
when we had stumbled along about half our way, up 
came my uncle, going to his dinner, and he understood 
my story in a few words. So putting his arm around our 
unfortunate, he almost carried him forward, and I ran 
on to tell Judith, and have food and a bed prepared. 

No one of us could think of eating our dinner until 
Pompey and my uncle had given this "stranger within 
their gates" a bath, and clean garments, and laid him in 
bed, and Judith and Nervey had prepared wine- whey and 
set a soup cooking for his after benefit; and thus tended 
he fell asleep, Pompey remaining in his room, for in very 
sooth we feared he would die even in his slumber. 

It was several days before Isaiah Hooper recovered 
sufficiently to tell his story. It seems that many of the 
prisoners in the hulks being unfit for service. General 
Washington could not exchange sound men for them, and 
demanded rather that they should be released on parole; 
and so at last it was offered to release Isaiah Hooper, but 
he refused. He "would not pass his word not to fight 
for his country so long as breath remained in his body." 
At last six of the invalid prisoners were exchanged for a 
certain corporal, and Isaiah Hooper being one of the six, 
was set free at New Brunswick, where he got a little food, 
and managed to get to the river by Trenton, where he found 
a sailing-boat drojiping down to Philadelphia. Sick, pen- 
niless, homeless, hungry, he concluded to go to Philadelphia, 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 227 

where he hoped to get help and recover himself; but he 
grew worse on the vessel, and being set ashore at the 
city he staggered on, "feeling nearly crazed, and as if 
God had forsaken him," until he Avas brought, half dead, 
into our house, where, I am sure, he was doubly welcome 
as a suffering Christian and as a suffering soldier. I wrote 
to his wife for him, and I gave him what news I had, for 
Isaiah hath not been at home since that day I helped his 
little daughter put up his luncheon for him when he set 
out to Cambridge. 

The conduct of Mistress Seaforth was w^orth notice. 
As soon as she heard of our sick guest she must come 
and see him ; then she must bring him some slippers of 
her own knitting and a gown which Henry had left home, 
wherein he might sit up conveniently; then she would sit 
by his bed and read the Psalms for the day, and often 
would bring him a dish of posset, or jelly, or conserve, 
made by herself; and so she ministered to him; — Isaiah, 
grown gray, with a dark, rough, seamed face, his hands 
large and horny, his voice hoarse from his cold on the 
chest; and Mistress Seaforth, slender, fair, faded, small- 
handed, delicate as a lily, and silver-voiced, consoling 
and nursing the ex-captive, I met her one morning 
bringing a panado, and I said: 

"All this for a rebel, dear madame?" 

"Child," she answered, "he loses the rebel in the suf- 
ferer. But more, I see in him a victim of my own party; 
and deeply I grieve that carelessness or cruelty, or the 
necessary mischances of war, have caused them to reduce 
a prisoner to so evil a case, and therefore I do my little 



228 - PATRIOT AM) TORY: 

part to repair the wrong and relieve my king's cause 
from ignominy." 

As Isaiah grew stronger he began to talk about going 
back to the army, and Susannah said to him : 

" Mr. Hooper, surely you have suifered rpiite enough. 
Your time of enlistment is expired, why not go home, 
and let others take their turn?" 

But he said : 

"No; the country needs us all, and I shall re-enlist for 
the war. We must fight for our freedom to a man ! " 

"But you may be killed," urged Hester. "And think 
how long it is since you saw your wife and children." 

Tears came into his eyes at mention of them: but he 
said, resolutely : 

" I will not see them until I can tell my sons that 1 
have helped purchase freedom, a free land, a good future 
for them. 'Tis better that they grow up fatherless and 
free, than that we are all slaves. They have a good 
mother, and she will teach them to use freedom hon- 
estly." 

"At least," said Judith, "you might go home for a six 
months." 

"Spare me that temptation," he said. "^ly country 
needs every hour of my health, and she shall have it. 
Like Uriah, I can say, 'The Ark, and Israel, and Judah 
abide in tents : and my lord Joab, and the servants of my 
lord, are encamped in the open fields: shall I, then, go to 
mine house?'" 

And this is the man of whom once I questioned: could 
such as he — tillers of the fields, wearers of homespun — 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 229 

be heroes? Was there any thing more heroic in Alex- 
ander, who fought for conquest, or in Hannibal, who 
fought for vengeance, than in this man, who gives him- 
self, and sacrifices his dearest comforts for a principle f 
No. This, as my uncle says, is not a sowing of human 
passions or of earthly pride, but some of Luther's seed — 
a growth divine. 

This Isaiah Hooper must be a man of iron, for after 
wounds and privations enough to kill ten men, he is 
growing stronger every day, and by the middle of May 
hopes to return to the army as well as ever he was in his 
life. He will go well fitted out by my uncle's purse and 
our needles, with all that he can carry to make camp life 
more hopeful or a soldier more efficient. 

May 28, 1777. 

While Isaiah Hooper was yet with us, w^ho should ap- 
pear but Mr. Bowdoin. Indeed, I think that he took oc- 
casion of the letter about Isaiah to put in practice a long- 
laid plan, and, setting forth to join the army under Wash- 
ington, he came, bringing letters and remembrances from 
Mistress Hooper to her husband, and so was at our house, 
where he could hear of Bessie. Oh ! the extent of this 
good man's infatuation ; and oh ! the equal extent of my 
own idiocy ; I never do the right thing at the right time. 
My uncle asked Mr. Bowdoin to stop Avith us until, in two 
or three days' time, he might set oif wath Isaiah Hooper 
to join General Washington's army. The first day was 
naturally spent with Mr. Hooper, telling all the news of 
the home and the neighborhood — and indeed his presence 
w^as to our friend as an angel's visit. The next day Mr, 



230 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

Bowdoin was about the city with my uncle, but in the 
afternoon he managed to come upon me where I was 
writing, by a window by my grandfather's desk, and, sit- 
ting down, he presently led the talk to Bessie. He asked 
about her, and I told him what I knew — only I did not 
dare say all I knew about her gay life for fear he would 
think me malicious or exaggerating, for I remembered all 
that he had thought and said about that in Plymouth. 
He asked me did Bessie speak of him, and I said she did. 
He looked vexed at my reticence, and asked me what she 
said : 

"She meant to write you," I replied, hesitatingly. 

He caught at that straw. 

" Aye ; and doubtless her letter miscarried. I would I 
might see what she wrote you. Miss Abbey." 

'Now there lay Bessie's letter, as yet unanswered. I 
could give it him, and I suddenly thought I would give 
it, and so, with her frivolity and her "two strings to her 
bow," end the good man's infatuation. I caught it up ; 
then suddenly came another thought : Avould this be just 
to Bessie? was it what she expected in writing freely to 
me ? — and, as I felt truly she would not like my betrayal of 
my folly, in my own most miserable style of doing every- 
thing I took the letter — which I had half held out to him 
— and tossed it in the fire burning on the hearth near me 
— for the weather was cold for the season, and my uncle 
kept a fire. As I flung the letter into the blaze Mr. Bow- 
doin sprung up as one mortified, angry and disgusted ; he 
gave me a very sharp, upbraiding look and left the room 
hastily. Still following my impulses, without any reason. 



ONE HUNDBED YEARS AGO. 231 

only feeling that I could not see Mr. Bowdoln again, I 
rushed to Juditli and begged permission to go and stay 
two or three days Avith Mistress Seaforth. Go I must, and 
Judith consented. I saw none of our family but Susan- 
nah during the next day, and I busied myself reading to 
Mistress Seaforth and working lace for her. The day fol- 
lowing Isaiah Hooper came in, hearty and cheerful, to say 
"good-by" to the Seaforths and me, as he set off to join 
the camp at Boundbrook, under Lincoln. Shortly after 
Mr. Hooper went out I looked from the door and saw him 
with Mr. Bowdoin, departing; and so I knew that Mr. 
Bowdoln had gone away in anger at me; and the feeling 
of sorrow — l)ut truly more of wrath — at being misjudged 
so overwhelmed me that, having carefully concealed thus 
far my vexations from Mistress Seaforth, I fled to her for 
comfort now, and, laying my face in her lap, I sobbed 
with all my might, and told her how undecided I had 
been, and how JNIr. Bowdoin was sure now that I was Bes- 
sie's enemy and envier, and that I loved to thwart him 
and hurt his feelings. Mistress Seaforth said very little 
beyond that '' it would all come out right by and by," and 
yet she comforted me greatly, and by supper time I went 
home quite cheerful. 

While I was at Mistress Seaforth's I met Mr. Duch6. 
He has been thought a very good man and good Patriot, 
and gave his salary as Chaplain of the Congress for the 
use of soldiers' orphans ; but I thought I discerned in him 
a little of a change that is creeping over the good city of 
Philadelphia — a change that comes as the British draw 
nearer us, and as expectations of their occupying our town 



232 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

tire stronger ; the change is a veering toward Royalism. 
I should think people would be ashamed to change ! I 
would be one thing or the other, and hold to it, and die 
for it, if need were, and not be a turn-coat ! Even if the 
enemy do occupy Philadelphia, as they have Xew York, 
that will not be to conquer the whole country ; they may 
be obliged to leave, as they left Boston ; and a city is less 
to gain than a State ; and Washington is driving them 
out of the Jerseys, and we hear from Charles that the 
army is on a better footing, and the men are in better 
spirits now than ever before. Still, I will admit that in 
this city Toryism is looking up. I do not mean in such 
men as Mr. Seaforth — they are always the same ; but peo- 
ple who, from fear or policy, have concealed their senti- 
ments, now dare come out and show them. Last Sabbath 
a clergyman here publicly read prayers for the king — and 
tliat in this city, where, less than one year ago, our inde- 
pendence was so enthusiastically asserted. 

JcLY 20, 1777. 
The British have evacuated New Jersey, and General 
Prescott, the commander of the British in Rhode Island, 
has been captured. My uncle says that if he is exchanged 
for General Lee it will be the worst capture that ever 
army made. The 4th of July was celebrated with great 
rejoicings here. The bells rung, cannon were fired, our 
new flag floated from ships and houses, the captured band 
of Hessians played for us, and there was a dinner for of- 
ficers and members of Congress ; also, at night there were 
bonfires, and illuminations, and fireworks. Xervey made 
one hundred c-.ndles to illuminate our house, and we girls 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



233 




The 4th of July Wixs cek'bratod with great rejoicings here. 



234 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



prepared a flag, which waved over our door, and we had 
a stri}) of white linen stretched between the windows be- 
low, with '■^ Our Country'^ thereon, made of leaves and 
fine vines. 

Burgoyne is moving southward, and his progress from 

C a n a d a is marked 



with Indian ravages, 
captives, b u r n i n g s, 
t o r t u e s , scalpings. 
Had we not a Her- 
kimer to keep up our 
hearts they would 
sink with fear when 
we hear the dolorous 
ncAvs from the val- 
leys of the Oswego 
and the jNI o h a w k . 
Some of the best 
men from the other 
armies have been de- 




GENERAL BURGOYNE. 



tached to go to General Gates, in the Northern Army, and 
help him fight the Indians. One of the companies thus 
ordered off is that to which Thomas Otis belongs. I did 
not know it at the time, but found it out by his coming 
here. Some stores and clothes were needed from Phila- 
delphia previous to marching, and three men and a cor- 
poral came down, and Thomas was that corporal ; and, 
being in town, he came here and stayed one night ; in- 
deed, my uncle had his men come too, and we made beds 
for them in the attic, and uncle fed them royally ; also, 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 235 

Judith gave them all socks, kerchiefs, shirts and towels ; 
also, uncle gave them some money, and a small Bible to 
two whose Bibles were lost. Thomas Otis, having money 
of his own, was very well dressed. He says he shall be 
a sergeant soon, and so go on. Being brave he will rise 
in rank, and before the close of the war he will be a 
general. 

The girls liked Thomas very much, and he told us 
many stories of camp life while he stayed. Hester thinks 
that Thomas is braver than Richard Reid, because he is 
always the hero of his own stories. I do not judge be- 
tween them. I am sure Richard is brave enough ; but 
perhaps he does not tell all that he does. After Thomas 
was gone what does Hester do but say to Judith that 
Thomas was my lover, which I denied. She then said : 

" Why, then, do you not like him ? " 

" Oh, yes," I said ; " for a long while he was my only 
playmate — as a brother; for I had no brother nor sister.'' 

" But he is not your brother," quoth Hester, " and 
therefore if you like him he must be your lover." 

" That is impossible," I said, " for I am only seventeen 
this year." 

" Girls of seventeen can have lovers," said Hester. " I 
should like one, I know." 

Then Judith interrupted us. She asked Hester did she 
not see that there was another relation for a young lad to 
stand in beside brother or lover, even friend. Also, she 
said that as at seventeen girls were too young to marry, 
so it should be too young for them to have lovers ; and 
that this playing at love was a frittering away and be- 



236 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

littling of our best sentiments ; it was dwarfing to the 
mind and enfeebling to the heart. " If," said Judith, 
^' you had a choice apple on a tree which you would have 
grow to full perfection, you would not be going up to. it 
betimes and taking bites out, one here and one there. 
If you did not quite destroy your apple in the operation 
you would have no fair and perfect fruit. Why must you 
spoil the full and perfect development of your young 
hearts by taking bites out of them in this playing at love- 
making? Again, it may be incredible to you how be- 
tween seventeen and twenty-one your opinions and pref- 
erences will change, so that what suited your hearts at 
seventeen will come far short of them at twenty-one. By 
playing at lovers too early, you may entangle yourself in 
a way to be regretted hereafter, or you may be some time 
the object of your own contempt that your preference 
stooped so low." 

Now I could not endure that Judith should think me 
other than I am, so when we were alone I said to her: 

"Indeed Cousin, Hester is wrong; there is no 'lover' 
about the business. But, Judith, doubtless I also was 
wrong, for Thomas had a lock of my hair, and — once he 
kissed my hand." 

I think Judith had some ado to keep from laughing, 
but she said : 

"Well, the lad is a good lad, but the years bring many 
changes, and none so great as in ourselves." 

The night after Thomas departed, Hester was crying 
after we were gone to bed; therefore I asked what ailed 
her, and she replied that she feared Thomas would be 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



237 



scalped by those dreadful Indians, and that if I cared for 
him I Avould cry too. I told her I did care for him 
some — but not enough to make me fancy he would be 
scalped by Indians, when as yet he had not got out of 
Jersey. Then Susannah put in her word, namely, that 
" if Thomas is so brave as he boasts there is not a living 
Indian would venture to scalp him;" so we laughed at 
that. But, oh, I wish the war, and the thought of scalp- 
ing and killing, were over, and all were safe at home. 
, October 5, 1777. 

Dark days indeed since I wrote ! General Sullivan has, 
by poor management, 



lost several hundred 
of our best troops, 
and now when I hear 
of " killed, wounded, 
and_prz,soners," I think 
of Isaiah Hooper as 
he was the day I 
found him in our 
street, and I think 
one fate is as evil as 
the other. 

Late in July there 
came from France a 
young Marquis, named 




GENERAL SULLIVAN. 



Lafayette, and with him the Baron De Kalb, two who 
bring their swords to our cause, desirous of no pay, and 
eager to fight for the common cause of human liberty, 
yet my uncle says Congress at first treated them scurvily 



238 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



and ungratefully enough. But though they were younger 
men than ho, my uncle would take off his hat and stand 
bareheaded as they passed, as thus paying all his tribute 

to highest hu- 
man worth. I 
met them twice 
or thrice in the 
streets and in- 
deed I could 
only think of 
that Scripture : 
" Greater love 
hath no man 
than this, that a 
man should lay 
down his life for 
h i s f r i e n d .' 
However, the 
two heroes — as 
surely they are 
— are now with Washington, and he knows how to honor 
worth. When I saw them I could only wonder what 
would be their fates in this war in the New World. 

On the 24tli of August I had another opportunity of 
seeing General Washington. He marched his army 
through our city on his way to Wilmington. Mr. Sea- 
forth's house was kept closed, both doors and windows ; 
but we opened all, and hung out our flag and streamers, 
and set forth flo\vcrs, and Susannah and Hester made a 
bouquet, and flung it right at the General, just as he came 




GENERAL LAFAYETTE. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



239 



up the street; but for me he seemed too great a man to 
throw flowers to. 

Daily the British forces crept closer to our city, and 
some said they would enter, and some said not. On the 
18th of September my uncle was obliged to go to the 
army on some business. He was carrying some money, 
and also some medical stores, and he had business with 
the General. I understand that my uncle is pledging his 
estates in Ncav Jersey for the support of the array. Hav- 
ing gone, he was unable to return when he would, acd on 
the 25th of September, Lord Howe's army encamped at 
Germantown, and on the next morning Cornwallis with 
the grenadiers 
marched into Phila- 
delphia and took 
possession. So here 
were we, our enemies 
in the city, the air 
full of tales of their 
rapacity. Uncle John 
and Charles away, 
and what seemed 
worst of all, now no 
longer would we be 
able to get news of 
our Charles, nor of 
the army at Saratoga, 
where daily a battle with General Burgoyne is expected. 

The loud sound of martial music, the shouts and yells 

of the populace, and the tramp of many feet, told us that 
16 




LORD CORN W ALUS. 



240 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

^ye were in the enemy's hands. From every Royalist's 
door floated British flags and colors, and appeared flowers. 
Do I complain of that? So we greeted our chief Avhen 
he came; alas, that he went so soon ! Thus Mistress Sea- 
forth's house was gay; but we closed ours, door and win- 
dows, like a tomb. And Hester, unknown to any, tied 
four yards of black crape to the knocker. Peter had been 
back on our hands for a week, and he and Pompey fled 
howling to the cellar ; Nervey being braver, tarried — at 
the top of the cellar stairs. Judith and we three girls 
dressed in deep black, and sat in our darkened parlor, 
waiting what might come. 



CHAPTER X. 



October 20, 1777. 
T WAS interrupted in describing the day when the 
-^ British took possession of Philadelphia. The bells 
rung, many people shouted welcome, and there was a hurry 
and bustle in all the city as the conquerors were seeking 
quarters. After an hour there was a furious knocking at 
our door. At the sound Nervey screamed and dashed 
into the cellar, but the younger maid rallied courage to 
open the hall-door; then, seeing a British officer, she too 
screamed and fled, leaving our visitor to do as he pleased. 
As he pleased to come in he appeared at the parlor door, 
and Judith rose — Susannah clinirin<>: to her arm on one 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 241 

side and Hester standing quite independently on the other, 
Avhile I was a bit in advance. The intruder was a captain, 
who gave a rude stare; but something in Judith's look 
daunted him, for he uncapped and asked civilly: 

"Where are the gentlemen of this house?" 

"Sir," said Judith, every word falling clear and cold, 
"they are in the army with General Washington." 

He looked a bit rebuffed, then said: 

"Is there a corpse in the house? — I notice a crape on 
the door." 

None knowing of this but Hester, she took it on 
herself to reply : 

"'Tis for our cause — slain here in this city, but Ave look 
for a speedy resurrection," 

The air and tone of the damsel were so cunning that he 
was inclined to laugh, and he said : 

" The weed is immense ! " 

"So is our woe," retorted Hester, sharply. 

He turned to Judith : 

" Madam, we shall be obliged to use this mansion as 
quarters for our colonel. We must have a dinner. Doubt- 
less you have provisions in the house, and you will kindly 
set your servants at the cooking. I will also look through 
the apartments and select quarters for our colonel and his 
staff." 

His air was impudence itself. Judith said, quietly: 

"We are unable to defend ourselves." 

He called in a lieutenant and a corporal** who Averc 
lounging on the portico, and the three Avere soon ranging 
the house at their pleasure; but I will say that they did not 



242 -P^ TRIO T A SD TOR Y: 

touch any thing. They returned to the parlor, and the 
captahi said, coolly : 

" We shall Avant all but the attic. You might remove 
all your clothing, and so forth, there. But I do not see 
any servants. Have you none?" 

"We have four," said Judith. 

"Are they in the house?" he demanded, loudly. 

^'They are negroes, and afraid," said Judith, quietly, 
"and they have taken refuge in the cellar." 

"He turned to the corporal and bid him: "Hunt them 
out." The corporal took one of the big silver candle- 
sticks with a wax candle, lighted it in the kitchen, went 
to the cellar, found the negroes hidden in an empty wine 
vault, and drove them up by pricking them with his bay- 
onet. They scrambled up howling, expecting instant death. 
I at once went to them and bid the corporal let them 
alone, as I would be answerable for their good behavior. 
Seeing me unterrified they stopped roaring, and I bid 
them go about getting a good dinner. I then hurried to 
the parlor, and heard Judith asking Avhen the colonel 
would come, and how large the party would be. The 
captain told her politely, and then withdrew. 

As soon as we were left alone I asked Judith what she 
intended to do. She replied that she should stay in her 
house, hoping thus to keep her property from injury. 
She bade Susannah and Hester hasten to remove our 
clothing and small treasures to the garret, and to hide all 
uncle's papers and his writing-desk in the garret chimney. 
She bade me strip the closets and parlor of what silver 
would not be missed and hide it in the mouth of an old 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 243 

oven in the cellar. She bade us also be ready to sit at 
table with her, and to be calm, grave, and yet fearless. 
Then, as we hastened to obey, she went to quiet the serv- 
ants and forward preparations for dinner. I finished the 
work set me, and then laid the dinner-table. After that 
I Avent into the parlor to Judith. In a few moments in 
came several as if they owned the house, and the captain 
whom we had seen threw open the parlor door, crying : 

" This way. Colonel ! " 

The colonel entered, but seeing Judith standing queenly 
before the hearth, he bowed low, with all due reverence, 
and the captain said : 

" Colonel Nelson, M— " 

"Jliss," said Judith. 

"Miss Temple," he continued. 

The Colonel — a very handsome man — said a few words 
about "sorry to incommode — fortunes of war — glad of 
ladies' society," etc. 

"Sir," said Judith, "I could truly wish that you had 
chosen other house than mine for your quarters. I am 
here without a protector, and have no married relative to 
remain with this family, being myself sole chaperon of 
three young damsels whom the presence of your staif will 
greatly discompose." 

"I will endeavor to maintain good order amon^ mv fol- 
lowers," he replied, and was about to say more when the 
the door opened and in came our Susannah, but stood, 
startled like a fawn, in the doorway, for she had not ex- 
pected to see strangers there so soon. At the sight of Su- 
sannah, Colonel Nelson stood for an instant like a man 



244 PATRIOT A^'D TOBY.- 

^vho had soon a supernatural vision; then he gave a low 
bow, and stepped forward, handing a chair. 

"'Tis my sister," said Judith; ''one of the maidens I 
spoke of," and she beckoned Susannah to her, who came? 
keeping as far from the colonel as possible. 

Just then we heard a voice welcome as a sound out of 
heaven, and in hurried Mr. Seaforth. He shook hands 
with Colonel Nelson, and, stepping to Judith's side, said: 

"These ladies are not in a situation to receive strangers. 
Colonel. I trust you can find other quarters." 

"Our orders are to quarter in rebel houses," said the 
colonel, looking puzzled, "and this house was pointed out 
as foremost." 

" I Avill see Lord Cornwallis about it," said Mr. Seaforth. 
"The father of these ladies is my particular friend, and 
this lady (and he drew Judith's arm in his) is engaged te 
be married to my son." 

"There must be some mistake, then, made by the cap- 
tain," said the colonel; if so, I sincerely beg pardon. Are 
these Royalists f" 

" My friend Temple and I have agreed to disagree about 
politics," said Mr. Seaforth, quietly. " I will be respon- 
sible for your finding quarters just as good, and, on some 
accounts, more suitable. I have sent a note to the Gen- 
eral — ." 

Just then Mr. Seaforth's servant lad came in and gave 
him a note, which he handed to Colonel Nelson. 

" I regret having alarmed or incommoded these ladies," 
said the colonel, glancing at the note, " and will at once 
withdraw." 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 245 

"Sir," said Judith, Avitli lior stately courtesy, "I have 
ah'eady ordered a dinner for you and your staff; pray, re- 
main and eat it as our guests. AVe shall be glad to have 
you occupy our house until evening, when, perhaps, your 
other quarters will be in readiness. Believe me, you are 
cordially welcome to dinner and supper." 

At this every one seemed pleased. Mr. Seaforth was 
obliged to go home, as he had guests to dinner: but he 
left us all in a complacent frame of mind. 

Peter showed the officers to rooms where they might 
arrange their dress, and they re-appeared with splendid 
ruffles and powdered hair. Hester dressed the dinner- 
table in flowers, and it looked truly elegant; and though we 
did not lay aside the black which we had donned, we put 
on lace, powder, and pearls, and tried to play the hostesses 
in a suitable manner. As for the colonel, he was from 
the first instant so enraptured with Susannah that he had 
neither eyes nor ears for any thing else ; but Susannah 
was entirely unconscious thereof. 

After dinner, which passed off very nicely — although I 
had expected Pompey and Peter, from very fear, to drop 
every dish which they touched — we left the table, Judith 
having ordered wine for the guests. The wine being fin- 

o O o 

ished, the officers went upon the back verandah to pace 
up and down, smoking ; and as I was less alarmed than 
Susannah,* and less belligerent than Hester, Judith sent 
me to say to the gentlemen that they were to order any 
thing which t\\ef desired from Pompey; also that she 
would give them supper at 7 o'clock. Colonel Nelson 
said to me, very cautiously: 



246 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

" AVe drank your fair-haired sister's health, but had 
not the pleasure of knowing her name." 

" She is my cousin, and her name is Susannah," I replied. 

He made answer : 

"She is very beautiful. She would be considered beau- 
tiful even in Loudon."-'^ 

It angered me in a moment. " Even in London I " 
As if we Colonists had no right to be beautiful ! And 
quick I said : 

"She is esteemed beautiful even in Philadclpliia! '^ 

Thereat he only bowed; but the others smiled broadly. 
"When I returned to Judith — who, with the other girls, 
had retreated up stairs, that part of the house now being 
secure from the intrusion of our guests — she asked me to 
sit on the verandah above that where the officers were 
Avalking, that, thus being in sight of the servants, who 
"svere Avorking in the kitchen, they might be more com- 
posed, and that while I was within hearing of the mo- 
tions of the officers Susannah might feel less nervous and 
affrighted. Taking my seat there I could not avoid hear- 
ing this talk from the colonel and the captain. The col- 
onel remarked : 

" I had not expected to meet such a bevy of beauties. 
Zounds ! I would I had on my best uniform : I look but a 
lout in these shabby clothes. Truly, if the Colonies are 
full of such maidens as we have seen here, I for one will 
be loath to fight with their fathers and brothers. We had 
better seek peace, and make love instead of war." 

" Certes," said the captain, " I came in here this morn- 
■'■'See Frontispiece. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 247 

ing bold as brass, and feeling somewhat lofty toward 
rebels, who had occasioned our coming over seas and ex- 
periencing so many disasters. AVhen, entering yon par- 
lor, such a picture met my eyes as I had never expected 
to see. The eldest Miss Temple stood facing me, with a 
lofty, questioning look — standing, beautiful and grand, 
sole guardian of the other three, and appearing not un- 
worthy of her office. On one side of her was that tall, 
gold-haired, lily-faced maiden, clinging to her sister ; on 
the other, the piquant, black-eyed, dark-browed little de- 
mon, whom I would fear to have pass by me were I, 
like Sisera, asleep in a tent; and, a little way in advance 
of the three, that other Miss Temple, with gray eyes and 
innocent brow — a face like an accusing angel — whom I 
would dread to meet at the gate of Paradise, did I go 
thither laden with any serious crime." 

I think he was horrid to speak so of Hester, just be- 
cause she is brave. 

It was nine o'clock before the British left our house. 
The colonel apologized to Judith for the trouble he had 
given her, and further, begged that while remaining in 
the city he might be permitted to call upon us. He said, 
also, that he trusted the troops would not inconvenience 
the citizens, but that the officers would add to the social 
pleasures of the coming winter. After the colonel and 
his staff had departed, INIr. Seaforth came in to see that 
we were comfortable for the night. He told Judith that 
he could almost positively assure her that we should suflPer 
no additional molestation, and that the peace and order 
of the city would be preserved ; and he said that he 



248 PA TRIO T A ND TOR Y: 

trusted in a short time to got a permit for Uncle John, 
who is now shut out of the city, to return home. 

Before the British entered the city we had heard of a 
battle — on the 19tli of September — fought at Freeman's 
Farm, on the Hudson, in which the Americans were vic- 
torious. Cook's Connecticut militia were engaged, and, 
as I think Deborah Samson belongs to that, I have been 
M-ondering about her fate. My heart also follows the for- 
tunes of my old friends — the Danas, and of Isaiah Hooper, 
and Mr. Bowdoin. And I think often of what Dame 
Warren told me when I wished for more stirring times : 
that when one was out on the bay in a storm one would 
sigh for the calm of the summer mill-pond. 

We kept much within-doors, and, except one call from 
Colonel Nelson, we saw no one until the evening of the 
19th of October, when Uncle John — furnished by Mr. 
Seaforth with a permit from General Howe — returned 
home, to our great joy. Supper was prepared at once, 
while our traveler refreshed himself with a bath. Then 
uncle came dowu to the dining-room, and Judith must 
sit beside him while she made his coffee, and Susannah 
brought her seat so close on the other side that he could 
hardly move his arm, while Hester hung on the back of 
the chair, and kept up a running fire of questions; and I, 
posted opposite them, had also my claims, and allowed no 
break in the narrative. Meantime all the servants gath- 
ered at the doorway to hear what was to be told, and to 
mutter betAveen times that they " nebber, nebbcr look 
to see Massa Temple home no more." So much Avas 
to be told on both sides that we never retired until 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



249 



midnight, and we forced Uncle John to give us his story 
first. 

At all events we have had a victory that shall go far 
to pay us for the loss of Philadelphia. On the 7th of 
October the army un- 
der Gates and Lin- 
coln joined battle 
with B u r g o y n e . 
Neither Gates nor 
Lincoln were on the 
field, but Arnold was 
there, without a com- 
mand. The battle w^as 
very hot, and victory 
remained with our 
Patriots. Of the 
British, many officers 
were killed, and 
among others, Fraser, 
the Scotchman. I am very sorry he was killed; all say 
he was honest, brave, and kind ; and then he had a wife 
and little children. Oh, I do wish he had stopped at 
home, in his own land of mountains, and lakes, and 
heather, and nol)lc memories! 

After this battle General Burgoyne retreated, and the 
next night he abandoned his sick, and wounded, and the 
hospital. I dare say the poor souls were frightened then ; 
but I am sure our men will treat them kindly. If I 
thought they would not, for the sake of their friends at 
home, I would like to go up and nurse them myself. 




GENERAL FRASER. 



250 



PATRIOT AND TORY. 



Stark, with two thousand men from Xew Hampshire, 
now broke up the British posts at Fishkill, and took all 
their boats and stores. Gates followed close on Bur- 
goyne's rear, and on the 12th, the British were entircly 
surrounded by the Americans; therefore, next day Bur- 
goyne asked for terms of surrender. • My uncle savs that 
General Gates's fault is want of firmness. If he had been 




BURGOYNE'S ENCAMPMENT. 



a little more resolute he could have had the whole of 
Burgoyne's army as prisoners of war. Burgoyne, how- 
ever, was sharp enough, and he got a passage for his 
army from Boston to Britain, on condition of serving no 
more in America. So our Americans marched into, the 
British camp playing " Yankee Doodle,'' and the British 
laid down their arms and marched out, and the Ameri- 
cans served rations of flour to the British, who had 
neither bread nor flour left. So here, uncle says, we 



PA TRIOT A XD TOR Y: 



251 



have made way with ten thousand of onr enemy, and 
have got forty-two brass field-pieces and forty-six hun- 
dred good muskets. 

For my part I do not care much about empty honors^ 
and prisoners of war, and all that; what I want is peace. 
I am glad these ten thousand are gone; and I wish all 
the rest would go, and that across the big, wide water we 




SCENE OF BURGOYNE'S SURRENDER. 

could all shake hands and be comfortable, as neighbors 
even distant, and relations so near, ought to be. 

INIy uncle says that this victory gives him more courage 
than any thing since the war began — not so much for 
what has been done as because of ivho did it. A srreat 
general gained for us the battle of Trenton; but great 
generals are scarce, and can not be on hand to gain all 
our victories. The conquerors at Saratoga were not great 
generals, but yeomen — farmers, fighting in unison in regi- 



252 -^'1 TRIO T A ND TOR Y: 

nients; countrymen, almost fresh from the fiehls — brave, 
and true, and calm. The husbandmen of A^irginia, and 
New York, and New England, fighting as one man for 
one cause, gained that day. This shows us what Ameri- 
can unity can do. 

I^ncle says report is that the negroes, of whom there 
are some (mostly as servants) in every regiment, fought 
as bravely as any one. He said this looking at Pompey; 
but Pompey only laughed, and mumbled something about 
"a whole skin." 

I asked uncle if he had any news of Pobert Shirtliffe, 
and he said that Charles understood that Robert sniFered 
. from a sword cut in the head at Saratoga. 

After uncle's story was done we told ours; and w^e all 
felt what the firm friendship of Mr. Seaforth is now worth 
to us. It is through him that we have our home in quiet; 
that uncle is come back; that uncle's property and ware- 
houses are unmolested. We had also to tell uncle of war 
affairs near us. 

On the 27th of September an American frigate care- 
lessly got aground here at ebb tide and surrendered ;. and 
-on October 2d, Colonel Nelson went over and captured 
the works at Billingsport. The garrison there spiked the 
guns and fled. On the morning of the 4th of October, 
we in Philadelphia were awakened by the sound of can- 
non at Germantown. Almost as soon as the echoes of 
the guns rolled over the city we heard Cornwallis's grena- 
diers and Hessians marching in haste from the town. We 
all rose, and spent a dreadful day. Doubtless, Charles 
and Henry Seaforth were engaged in opposite armies; the 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 253 

battle might sweep into Philadelphia, and by night the 
city might be in the hands of our Americans, or we 
might see our beloved general brought in captive, and 
all our cause lost. It was only a little after daylight 
when we were all assembled in the parlor. Judith had 
worship much earlier tlian usual — she always leads wor- 
ship when uncle. is gone, but commonly after breakfast. 
As for breakfast, neither that nor dinner Avas wanted by 
any of us that day. At night we learned from Mr. Sea- 
forth that the Americans, after a partial success, had been 
defeated. (Uncle tells us since that it was because of the 
failure of General Greene to support Washington.) The 
next morning Mr. Seaforth told us that Henry had not 
been in the battle, and that the xVmericans had withdrawn 
in good order. Later, he found from a prisoner that 
Charles's regiment had not been in action. Some of the 
wounded prisoners were brought into the city, and, 
through Mr. Seaforth, we got five to take care of, Mr. 
Seaforth becoming responsible on our parts that they 
should not escape. We put them in the attic, and in- 
stalled Pompey as head nurse. 

NOVEMBEU 1, 1777. 

On the morning of the 21st the company of wliieh 
Henry Seaforth is captain came into the city. INIrs. Sea- 
forth's joy was so great as partly to console us who love 
her, for the disasters that brought a British company into 
quarters here. As for Judith, her heart was divided. Un- 
doubtedly she was infinitely glad once more to see Henry, 
whom she loves passionately ; but as an ardent ^^atriot, she 
deeply felt the disaster to her cause, which had been the 



254 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

means of bringing him. My uncle's counsel to her was 
clear common sense : " You, my daughter, had no share 
in those chances of war that put our city in an enemy's 
hands. Accept, then cheerfully and without hesitation or 
self-upbraiding, what happiness has been provided for 
you in Henry's society. "While he is here, forget in the 
lover the British officer. His following of his convic- 
tions of duty is as honorable to him as yours to you. 
Be happy, my child, while you may, that the future may 
bring you no cause to regret coldness, or conflict, or neg- 
lect." Colonel Nelson had only called upon us once thus 
far; I think he showed himself the gentleman by remain- 
ing away, so long as we had no protector in our house, 
and he had no one to recommend him personally to our 
society. However, he had known Henry well in Xew 
York, and when both my uncle and Henry had been at 
home some days. Colonel Nelson had Henry bring him to 
visit us, and say a good word for him to my uncle. I 
say " to visit us," but the truth is, he comes only to see 
Susannah, as is evident to all — but her. We have had 
more fighting; on the twenty-second of October, Colonel 
Dono}) was ordered to carry Redbank by assault. It was 
a day of hard fighting; the Americans being intrenched, 
were comparatively safe, but the poor Hessians were 
mowed down like grain in the fields, and Donop was 
terribly Mounded ; the unhappy man is since dead, and 
we heard from Colonel Nelson that he said as he died, 
" I die a victim of my ambition and the avarice of my 
king." I think it so wicked for those petty European 
sovereii2:ns to sell their men to be sent here to fight; and 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 255 

Colonel Nelson frankly said here the other evening, that 
the whole system of hiring mercenaries was a disgrace to 
humanity, and a scandalous perversion of the rights aad 
duties of kings. 

After this battle we added to our hospital in the attic 
one inmate, or, rather, one of the Americans was so well 
as to leave, and we took in a poor Hessian who had 
crawled, wounded, into the woods after the Redbank affair, 
and then somehow reached the city half dead. My uncle 
got hold of him, and volunteered to cure him, so he got 
the spare pallet in the attic. He was delirious with fever 
wdien he got to us, but uncle put him to bed, had his 
wound dressed, and gave him an opiate. Next morning, 
while Judith and I had gone up to see the patients, and 
do various good offices for them, this Hessian awoke in his 
right mind, but very feeble. Judith bent over him, ask- 
ing, in German, how he felt, and the poor fellow thought 
first that he was in heaven, and then that he was at home, 
and presently burst into tears. Judith sat down by him, 
and consoled him with hopes of recovering and getting 
home to his children ; and then she repeated the twenty- 
third psalm in German, while I fed him his breakfast. 
He is doing nicely now, and he has told Judith how he 
and h.is fellows hated to come away from home to fight 
and die in a cause for which they cared nothing, and how 
some of them tried to run away, and were driven on ship- 
board at the point of the bayonet. I do pity these Hes- 
?jians; they could not help coming here, nor could the 
other mercenaries. 

A letter from Charles has been smuggled into the city, 
17 



256 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

and be tells us of the brave and lovely Baroness Riedesel, 
wbo was witb ber two children and busband taken pris- 
oner at Saratoga, and has since been sent bere and tbere, 
waiting exchange or something, and has often been sciir- 
vily treated by country folk, just because she is an enemy. 
They should sink the enemy in the prisoner, but Charles 
says General Schuyler behaved nobly to her, and to all 
the captives, as becomes such a gentleman and scholar as 
the General is said to be. After Donop's defeat at Red- 
bank, two British ships got aground in the river, the "Au- 
gusta," of sixty-four guns — and next day the Americans 
destroyed her by firing hot shot into her powder maga- 
zine — and the frigate " Merlin," which was abandoned and 
burned. My uncle, who from having been in the army 
lately knows how things are going on, says that Washing- 
ton could retake Philadelphia if the militia of Pennsyl- 
vania would only rise ; but they are discouraged, and very 
largely disaffected, and also there are cabals formed 
against our good General in Congress, and the other Gen- 
erals, as Greene and Gates, do not work harmoniously 
with him and properly obey orders. To-day, while I am 
writing, the attack on Redbank is renewed, and I shiver 
to think that every moment is death or pain to some hu- 
man being not far from me. 

NovEjiBER 28, 1777. 

The winter here is a scene of great gaiety: the British 
officers and the townspeople — now very many — who are 
in favor of the British, give balls and parties ; there are 
dances and card-playing and theaters, and one Avould think, 
from what goes on, that war and pain and death were un- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 257 

known in this Avorld. My uncle is very much distressed 
at such follies during these sad times, and though we are 
all invited by the officers to attend some of the merry- 
makings, we go to none. Also, there is a deal of Sunday 
visiting and concert giving, but my uncle resolutely shuts 
his doors on that day ; ev^en Henry Seaforth stays away 
from us Sabbath, for fear of setting others example to 
come. Mr. Seaforth has given some dinners and one or 
two tea-parties by way of showing hospitality, but he does 
not fancy the masquerades and revellings and routs any 
more than my uncle does ; besides, Annie is very sad and 
anxious about Charles, and does not care to take part in 
many amusements. Meantime, Colonel Nelson comes to 
our house continually on one excuse or on another, and 
he brings Susannah flowers and books, and has shown 
her pictures of his mother, a widow, and of his young sis- 
ter. Even Susannah sees now his devotion to her. Hes- 
ter said to her one day, " To think, Susannah, that you 
should have a British officer for a lover !" 

" He shall never be lover of mine so long as he is an 
enemy to my country," replied Susannah, with spirit. 

" Perhaps you can cause him to come over to our side," 
suggested Hester. 

" Were he so changeable I should like him worse than 
ever," said she. 

"And do you like him, then?" I asked. 

Susannah laughed and blushed. "Were he a patriot I 
would tell you." One day the colonel brought to our 
house a captain just from Xew York, Captain Banks. We 
none of us liked him. I wondered if it were the same 



258 -P'i TRIOT AND TOR Y : 

Captain Banks of wlioni Bessie had spoken, but I would 
not ask him. Well, it was only a week after Captain 
Banks came that I was called down to the parlor where 
were Uncle John, Henry Seaforth and Judith. I ran 
down the stairs and briskly in at the parlor door, when a 
figure all flowers and veil, satin, lace, furbelows and gen- 
eral splendors flew to meet me, and there was Bessie 
clasping me and kissing me and calling me "darling Ab- 
bey," " dearest love," and what not. Still I was glad to 
see her, and I thought she looked very pretty, prettier 
than ever, though a bit too much of a fine lady. But 
hardly had Bessie done embracing me than Mr. Warley 
pounced at me, kissed my cheek, pressed my hand, shed a 
few tears, and vowed that he was rejoiced to see me, and 
was proud indeed that I was so improved. Then he 
made me take a seat by him on the sofa, and told my 
uncle that he felt a relationship with all his family on ac- 
count of my residence with them, for he regarded me 
quite as another daughter, as a younger sister of his Bes- 
sie. Daughter, indeed! His parental zeal for Bessie has 
led him to teach her to have two strings to her bow — and 
he never taught me any thing! My uncle was not very 
cordial to Mr. Warley, but he was kind to Bessie, and bid 
her come to us often. Bessie and her father reached toAvn 
the day before they called on us. I know Mr. Warley 
never says or does any thiug that has not self-interest at 
the bottom of it, and I wonder what is his object in being 
friendly to us. I told Judith that it seemed to me that our 
Colonial prospects must look even more favorable to the 
eyes of the British than to ours ; and INIr. Warley, aware 



OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 259 

thereof, has now two strings to his bow, one of them being 
the Temple family. 

Mr. Warley's business in the city kept him much from 
his lodgings; indeed, when he did not have_ business I 
think he was haunting the faro-tables, and truly some 
hinted that he was a secret partner in one of these, where 
many British officers, even young lads under twenty, were 
robbed of all that they had. Bessie being left much to her- 
self, and being also one of those who are unable to sustain 
their own society, came frequently to visit us, and Judith 
took her into our home life. I think she hoped to show 
her some better way of living than any she had known. 
She had Bessie bring her sewing and knitting, and work 
with us, and she kept on with our readings and improving 
conversations, also with our daily Scripture readings. 
Bessie listened, and took part with that readiness with 
which she lends herself to whatever is passing. 

Bessie invited herself to stay a night with me, and took 
occasion to tell me of her life in New York, and all the 
attentions she had had there. She still came back to 
Captain Banks, and said he was expecting to be made 
major, and she said she liked him vastly, and had about 
made up her mind to marry him. 

"What, has he asked you?" I said. 

"Xo, but he will," said Bessie. "I expect his proposals 
any day." 

"And what will your father say?" I asked. 

"To do as I please, if I can not do any better," said 
she, laughing. 

"Oh, Bessie," I remonstrated, "you promised to marry 



260 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Mr. Bovvdoin, and he truly loves you. He did not pass 
months in your company with you ^expecting liis propo- 
sals any day/ and he not making them; that seems shame- 
ful to me. Do, Bessie, give up this Captain Banks, and 
write Mr. Bowdoin. He would be glad to marry you and 
go home to Plymouth ; and think what an innocent and 
safe life you might live in that dear old place." 

" Dear old place, indeed ! " cried Bessie. " I promised 
to marry him just for fun, and really I did like him when 
I w-as with him ; he is very good looking. But what ! do 
you thing I can tie myself up on a farm, a preacher's wife, 
w'earing my good gown but twice or thrice a year, spin- 
ning, weaving, knitting, going to church twice of a Sunday, 
keeping fast days, visiting old women, and coddling all 
the babies in the congregation ? Not I ! Captain Banks 
may be colonel or general yet ! " 

Then Bessie turned off to our affairs. 

"Judith," she said, " was doing well for herself." She 
had heard that Mr. Seaforth was rich as a Jew. And, of 
all things, Susannah's luckw^as most marvelous. Susannah 
w-as pretty, but made no show; went nowhere; dressed 
like a child; Mas prim as a Quaker, and gave no encour- 
agement to Colonel Nelson — and all the world said he 
was wild about her. Colonel Nelson was heir of an es- 
tate and a title — what was Susannah thinking of that she 
did not jump at such a chance? And she had heard that 
Colonel Nelson had given up wine, and did not even 
drink a health, because he had heard Susannah express 
an opinion a^'ainst such things. 

I find Bessie changed for the worse, and I cried about 



ONE H USD RED YEARS AGO. 



261 




Wliiii, has ho asked vuu ? " I said. "Ko, but he will," said Bessie. 



262 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

it after she had finally fallen asleep. Then a bright 
thought came to me. Mistress Seaforth is rich, an Eng- 
lish Avoman, a perfect lady, a Royalist — all these things 
would give her influence with Bessie and Mr. "NVarley. I 
would introduce Bessie to her — she had already expressed 
kind pity for her — and perhaps this dear lady would take 
a mother's place, and guide the poor girl right. So next 
day I took Bessie to our dear friend; and not only did 
that best of ladies understand my motive at once, but she 
took kindly to Bessie, and Bessie was charmed with her, 
and Mr. AVarley was much delighted with the acquaint- 
ance; and so I hope poor Bessie has now a guide and a 
friend who will help her keep out of danger and wrong- 
doing. 

As for our city of Philadelphia, provisions are dear and 
fuel scarce; but of this we do not complain, for it is ow- 
ing to the close investment of the city by our dear general, 
and we can think that every load of provisions that fails to 
reach us goes to his brave and suffering army. I daresay 
we are almost the only family of means living without 
officers and soldiers quartered upon us. I suspect dear 
Mr. Seaforth purchased our exemption and his own at a 
great price. -Then, we doubtless owe much to the influ- 
ence of Captain Seaforth and Colonel Nelson. I was about 
to write that these two are the only decent officers in town, 
but that would be a foul injustice; there are a number 
of educated gentlemen among them. There are also ras- 
cals of the deepest dye. These invaders live in the best 
houses and are served with the best, without offering com- 
pensation. Our quiet city is outraged by the grossest 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



263 



vices of a camp. Gaming, theaters, dances are the order 
of the day, and drinking in shameless excess is a common 
occurrence. 

Colonel Nelson has introduced to us some very pleasant 
guests; among others 
Captain Andre, a gen- 
tlemanly and amiable 
young man though over 
fond of gay life. He 
has painted the scenes 
and curtains for the the- 
aters of the officers ; in- 
deed he can act, dance, 
sing, read well, paint, 
keep a party merry — in 
fact, do any thing that he chooses; and withal, Colonel 
Nelson says that he can fight like a hero. 

One of the disappointments that I have felt this win- 
ter was from the conduct of Mr. Duche. He is such an 
agreeable man, and I thought him both saint and Patriot ; 
and now he has gone over to the other side ! I would 
not mind if he had been there always, for conscience' sake; 
but this cowardly turning I do hate — it is hypocrisy ; at 
least I thought so, and said as much to Mr. Seaforth. He 
told me I judged harshly: "People, on mature reflection, 
might see cause to change their minds — cause in sound 
reason." 

"But," said I "'tis a suspicious turning that moves ever 
to the winning side. When patriotism was first in power 
Mr. Duche was a Patriot." 




264 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

"Well, my child," said Mr. Seaforth, "Mr. Duche is a 
good man, and honest, though perhaps he is not firm. 
When he was a Patriot he was really a Patriot ; and now 
that he is a Royalist he is really a Royalist. You know 
the vane, when it points east, points there firmly ; and 
when it points west, it is clearly west. True, it got there 
by the wind, and it will change with the wind ; but that 
is the nature of a weathercock. Mr. Duche feels now that 
all indications are that God is favoring the Royal cause, 
and that the best interests of America lie in rescinding 
the Declaration of Independence and submitting to His 
Majesty. And he has written an ardent letter to Mr. 
Washington to that effect." 

" General Washington will not heed him," I cried, 
warmly. 

"No, my child, I do not think that he will. Firmness 
of purpose is a distinguishing characteristic of that gen- 
tleman. Perhaps it would be better for his country if he 
were less resolute in face of all difficulties." 

"I don't think so. I think Washington is just right 
every way." 

February 20, 1778. 

On the night of the 30th of November my winter ad- 
ventures began. Hester was at Mistress Seaforth's. Ju- 
dith and Susannah had guests in the parlor. It was just 
after dark that I went down stairs with a candle in my 
hand, and going through the passage to the kitchen I 
passed a closet under the stairs. The passage is narrow, 
and as I paused to open the door some one reached out 
of the closet, laid a hand over my mouth, ble\v out my 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 265 

light and drew me into the closet all in a moment, or 
rather second, and a voice said in my ear : 

"Don't scream, I am Richard Reid ! " 

The voice cUd sound familiar ; but there was I, so sin- 
gularly dragged into the closet, and, trembling, yet silent, I 
put up my hand to feel the intruder; and the height and 
something in the face seemed like Mr. Reid, though the 
garments felt odd ; and again he whispered, to reassure me : 

"It is truly I, Abbey Temple. I slipped in here to es- 
cape capture but now ; and indeed I will out again, for I 
must not endanger your uncle's family by my hiding here." 

I softly pushed shut the door. 

"What are you in the city for?" 

"General Washington must have information by one 
who is capable of giving it and making it available. I 
came here disguised to-day." 

"As a spy?" I said, trembling more than ever. Oh, 
Mr. Reid ! " . 

" My country needed it," he said. I came as a farming 
man, with produce, and meant to leave this evening, but 
found myself suspected, followed. Pursuit changed my 
motions to flight. I recognized the house and recalled 
this rear passage door, and instinctively I took refuge here 
to escape. Once in, I considered the danger I might bring 
to your uncle, and was going out when you came by, and 
impulse bade me make myself known." 

"Mr. Reid," I said, "suppose you are caught?" 

He replied, in an agitated voice : 

" I am willing to die as a soldier, on the field — but then 
I must hang as a spy." 



266 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

" I must save you ! " I cried — and a whole plan darted 
into my mind like light. 

" No, let me go out — I will try flight," he said. " I en- 
danger your uncle." 

"He shall not know it,^' I replied. "No one shall 
know but me, and they can not harm me if they cliscover 
me. They dare not kill a girl — and I have friends. 
Only do as I tell you. Take off your shoes and carry 
them. I shall go up stairs, and put out the hall light as 
I pass. Do you then follow me swiftly to the second 
story." 

I ran up stairs, blew out the candles on the hall table, 
and hurried up to my room. Mr. Reid was at my elbow 
as I reached it. A candle was burning on the table. I 
thrust him into a closet, took the candle and a bottle from 
the table and ran on to the attic. Now we had there five 
patients of prisoners. One (Williams) was a little worse 
that day, but one was cured, and had an order to report 
at the barracks. His name was Grey. He was a good 
man, who would do any thing for me because I had sent 
letters for him to his wife. I tarried a moment at the 
attic door, listening. All the patients seemed asleep. The 
bottle I had seized from my table happened to be rose- 
water, but I resolved to give our sickest patient a dose of 
it, by way of excuse, if any one of them aAvoke at my en- 
trance. Grey's pallet was nearest the door, and as I dared 
not speak I stepped to it, put my hand on his head and 
pulled it a little. I had left my light in the hall. At 
the second pull he lifted his head, and I said : 

"Dress quickly and come into the hall." 



Oyi: HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 267 

In a few minutes he stood by me in the entry, wearing 
the complete new suit of fustian which Judith had had 
prepared for him and had placed by his bedside. I whis- 
pered : 

" Mr. Grey, you are well. I want you to slip out of 
the house as quickly as possible, and do the best you can 
until morning. I will give you an overcoat of my 
cousin's ; and perhaps yon can get into Mr. Seaforth's 
Avoodshed — not in ours, for any thing. Don't be seen. I 
have an American officer to save from death, and I shall 
try and hide him in your bed," 

He seemed to comprehend at once ; said it was all right, 
he could do admirably until morning. So I got Charles's 
old coat from the closet; he took his shoes in his hand, 
and I hurried softly to open the street door. He must 
have come down stairs by leaps, but silently, for as soon 
as I had the door open he rushed by me into the dark- 
ness. Back I ran to Richard Reid, in the closet, and led 
him up to the attic and stood him by Grey's empty pallet. 
So I bid him undress and get in quickly and quietly, and, 
of all things, to put on Grey's night-cap, which I slipped 
into his hand. Away then for Judith's keys and to her 
closet for another suit of fustian; and by the time I took 
it to the attic Richard Reid was in Grey's pallet. I said : 
" Seem to sleep, whatever happens," and laid the fustian 
on a chair, and carried oif what clothes he had left on the 
floor, What to do with them and the shoes I hardly knew, 
but then, running to my room, I stuffed them into the 
straw tick which lay under my feather-bed, and, making 
all smooth, I flew down to the kitchen. It had been the 



268 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

busiest twenty minutes or thereabout that I had ever spent. 
As I expected, soon came a pounding at our kitchen door, 
and Pompey opened it, trembling. A pair of British sol- 
diers stood there, and one said, roughly : 

"We want the strange man that ran in here but now!" 

Then I stepped forward, sharp and bold : 

" What are you talking about, sirrah ! A strange man ! 
There is no strange man here, unless you mean Colonel 
Nelson, sitting above in our parlor." 

" He was seen to come in here," said the other man. 

" Who — the Colonel ? Truly, he comes often ; and will 
not thank you for your watching of his motions, I can tell 
you." 

" Oh, miss, if you please," said the soldier, respectfully, 
" we mean one suspected for a spy, who darted off the 
street and must have got in here. I saw him myself, and 
went for a comrade and an order to search — and — / have 
both!" 

Blessed be Nervey. Here she tore off her turban, frantic 
with fright, and yelled: 

" Robbers ! robbers in the house ! " 

" If robbers are in, by these good men's help we will 
soon get them out," I said, catching at that idea. Then to 
the men, very stately : " You say you have orders, but I 
do not know you, nor your orders. Will one of you stop 
here, and the other come with me to speak to Colonel 
Nelson, to question your orders or go through the house 
with you, or will you both stop here until I go for him 
myself? " 

They said that one would go with me ; so, with my sol- 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 269 

dier at my elbow, I went up and opened the parlor door. 
Uncle sat by the center-table, reading; on one side of the 
room Susannah was at the harpsichord, playing softly, 
and beside her stood Colonel Nelson, with his violin, and 
they were singing a song that he had taught her — 

"Say, Myra, why is gentle love 
A stranger to thy mind?" 

On the other side of the room Judith sat on the sofa, and 
Henry Seaforth, in a chair near her, was bending forward 
to speak to her. Henry, with his fair, ruddy English 
face and golden hair, is such a contrast to Judith's dark; 
splendid beauty. The music and the earnest talk going 
on in the parlor had prevented their hearing my various 
maneuvers. As I opened the door I spoke out clearly to 
the Colonel : 

" Colonel Nelson, here is a soldier M^ho says he has 
authority to search our house for a sj^y, whom he says ran 
in here." 

All sprang to their feet. Colonel Nelson came forward 
and questioned the man sharply, at first declaring him 
drunk, then giving him more credit. Then I spoke out 
with tart scorn : 

" I suppose it never entered your head that your spy 
could get over the back fence more easily than rush 
through a locked door!" 

At these Avords my uncle gave me a keen look; sud- 
denly he grew a little paler, and then, turning to the 
hearth, stirred the fire, as if he had no further interest in 
the matter. 



270 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

" There is no spy in this house," cried Colonel Nelson, 
angrily, seeing Susannah lokiong frightened. 

" Pray, let him see for himself," I cried. "Why should 
we be suspected? Pray, Colonel, come with this man and 
I will show you all over the house ; only, I must ask you 
to come to the attic, and not let him blunder there with 
his noise, for we have a very sick man there to-night, 
and he might be made worse by a fright." 

Judith, looking surprised at my unusual manners, said, 
" I had better go over the house with the Colonel." 

I managed, unobserved, to squeeze her hand, and said : 
" 'No, you have company. I am disengaged ; so come. 
Colonel, we will be through with this business at once." 

The Colonel took a candle, I led the Avay beside him, 
and the soldier, with a pistol cocked in his hand, came 
behind. I was very particular, and insisted on a com- 
plete search, saying, " Suppose some one did come in ? 
sujj^iose there is a robber in the house?" So we searched 
every place below and above, until the attic was reached. 
Then I said softly, " Now, Colonel, for our sick man. I 
will hold the light, and you just count the heads; you 
were here yesterday, and know that we have five. You 
must send us another when Grey's bed is empty, to-mor- 
row." I held the candle with elaborate good will, but 
managed to cast Grey's night-capped head somewhat into 
the shadow. " All right," said the Colonel. " Poor fel- 
lows ; this is war ; you have been angels of mercy in this 
house to sick and wounded, and have saved lives, while 
mv bitter trade is to sacrifice them." Then, ffoing down 
stairs, he said to the soldier, " If a spy or any other did 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 271 

enter this yard, you see lie has escaped by the rear fence, as 
Miss Temple suggested." I went to the kitchen and dis- 
missed the soldiers, with a fair ration of bread and con- 
serves, to sweeten their dispositions and dissipate suspicion. 
Then I ran to my room and wrote this note to Judith : 
"Trust me. When I ask for leave to go to Mistress Lo- 
gan's, support me ; and say I must take her a cook for her 
dinner." I sealed this properly, and walking into the 
parlor, as if the note had just come in at the door, I tossed 
it to Judith, saying, "Another invitation?" 

Kow, I do not often talk to Colonel Xelson ; but he is 
very courteous to me, as to all Susannah's relations ; so 
he met my kindness readily when I sat near him, and 
began chatting freely. Finally, after properly leading the 
way, I said : " Colonel, I do wish you could get me leave 
to go out of the city to-morrow to Mistress Logan's; I 
have wanted to see her this long wdiile." "Aye, do. Colo- 
nel," cried Judith ; "I can send Abbey in company there; 
for Mistress Logan must have a cook for her dinner 
party." "Are you going to the dinner. Colonel?" I said; 
" perhaps my cousin will give me leave to stay until it is 
over ; being from the country, I never have seen such fine 
doings. See that I get leave to go. Colonel." 

"And take the cook along, Abbey," cried Judith. 

" By all means the cook, a black woman that can do 
culinary w^onders ; you are interested in that, Colonel. 
If the cook does not get there you may have no dinner 
fit to eat on Thursday," said T. 

" If you must go. Abbey," said Henry Seaforth, " I 

will ride out with vou." 
18 



272 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

" Xo indeed," I said, "all the sport is in riding alone." 

" I wanted you to go with me to-morrow. Abbey can 
go with the black," said Judith, who supported me won- 
drous well. Then Colonel Nelson took up the theme, 
and vowed he would ride out to the Logan House with 
me. I protested ; but go he would. 

" There is no danger," I said, " and I shall start before 
you are up. Only send me by seven o'clock a pass out 
of the city to go so far." 

Still he persisted ; he would gladly rise at five. 

" You force me to be rude," I said, laughing. " I am 
a hot ' rebel/ and I want to boast Avhen the war is over 
that I never went any whither with a British officer." 

He looked vexed, and said softly to Susannah, " I trust 
you do not take such a position as your cousin." 

" I was paying little attention to her nonsense," said 
Susannah, blushing. That blush so enraptured the Colo- 
nel, that he forgave me my impudence, withdrew his 
offer of escort, and promised me the pass I asked, which 
he would send by seven in the morning. He even 
brought his visit to an early close, that he might attend 
to this, and Henry Seaforth went with him. Susannah 
at once went up stairs. My uncle turned to me : "Abbey, 
have you heard any thing of your Cousin Charles?" he 
asked in a low voice. 

I looked boldly at him, saying, " No, uncle, not a 
word." " I thought — I feared you had," he said, and pres- 
ently he took his candle and went to his room. Judith 
and I locked up the house in silence. I saw that I must 
take Judith into my secret. We went up stairs and I 



OXE HUXDRED YEARS AGO. 273 

pulled her into my room ; then I said : " Judith, I have 
sent Grey off, and Richard Held is up in the attic in 
Grey's bed, and if he is not got out of the town to-mor- 
row, he will be caught and hanged as a spy. There is 
but one chance for him. I must get him to Mistress Lo- 
gan's as a black cook, and he must get from there to 
AVhite Marsh." So then, Judith and I planned for our 
"spy's" escape. Early in the morning Judith would 
darken the attic window, making it so dim that the pa- 
tients would not discern the change of Grey for Richard 
Reid. She would send Pompey to the warehouse with my 
uncle ; set the chambermaid to watch by our sick AYil- 
liams, and dispatch Nervey to call for Hester, and go in 
her company to market. INIeanwhile she would have the 
roan which I ride saddled, and a pillion put on for riding 
double, and .we would dress Richard like a black cook^ 
and so we would get him out of town, riding behind me. 
" If," I said, " the great long creature can manage to 
double himself up, and sit like a frightened old black 
woman ! " 

Well, in the morning we carried this out. Judith and 
I had mixed oil and burnt cork, and therewith Judith 
fairly soaked Richard's head, and neck, and hands, and 
his light, close-curled hair. Then we p^ut iron-bowed 
spectacles on him, and a big turban close over his fore- 
head, and a huge bonnet on that. Then he got on a 
gown and splay shoes, and I humped his shoulders a bit, 
and put a big netted scarf at his neck, and mittens on him, 
and a grand check apron, and a shawl ; also, I prepared 
him a bundle to hold in his lap, and I said : 



274 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

"Now, Richard, all — your life and my safety — depends 
on your sitting perched on that pillion as awkwardly, like 
an old negress, as you can. Draw yourself up — " 

" Never fear," says Richard, groaning, " I can but be 
awkward, sitting on a pillion in this homespun gown." 

"And hold your bundle close, and hold fast to me." 

"Never fear," said Richard, so cordially that we all 
laughed. 

Then I dressed myself in goodly fashion, to overawe all 
impertinent gazers at me and my servant-woman. And, 
lastly, I took a good pistol, left us by our Hessian when 
he went, and I handed it to Richard, saying : 

" Hide that in your bosom. "When there is nothing else 
to be done, fight ! " 

Thereupon Judith had us down stairs, it being eight 
o'clock and the coast clear, and I mounted my horse by 
her help; and by her help also — for the benefit of all 
neighbors who might be peeping — Richard Reid lumbered 
upon his pillion in awkward style, and crouched, cling- 
ing to me and to his bundle ; and Judith said : "All 
right — good morning " — which meant a great deal just 
then. And so I rode forth out of the side yard, and went 
up the street as briskly as I dared. I said : 

" Mr. Reid, are you like to hold your seat ? " 

"Aye," he said ; " but I feel awkward- enough, trussed 
up sideways in this fashion." 

"All the better," I said. " Hold your head down a bit. 
I will go as fast as I can without exciting suspicion." 

So on I went. And I showed my permit to three sol- 
diers ; but it was early and cold, and they were sleepy. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 275 

SO they took little heed of my " cook ; " and when I was 
out of sight of soldiers I rattled on at a brave pace. 
Thus by half-past nine I got to the gate of the Logan 
House, and I sent to ask Mistress Logan to come out 
to me. She came, with a shawl over her head, to the 
gate, and I said : 

" My Cousin Judith sends you a servant, if it may 
chance suit you." 

Thereupon Mistress Logan boxed the ears of a boy 
who stood listening, and bid him go feed the fowls. 
Then I added, softly: 

" Mistress Logan, 'tis life or death." 

So she bid us alight, and said loudly to me, that truly 
she was glad to see me, and was much obliged to Miss 
Judith Temple ; and saying sharply to my cook : " Come 
in, Dinah," she bid a servant take away the horse, and 
had us in by the front door and up to her own room, 
where I told her my story. She looked at my Dinah, 
laughing. " 'Tis well done," she said ; and said also that 
until night this Dinah must sit in a small anteroom, as if 
sewing. So there we put Richard; and I taught him how 
to hold a needle, and gave him a sheet to be hemmed ; 
and betimes Mistress Logan and I took a few stitches for 
him, in event of any of the family taking notice of the 
work ; and Mistress Logan said in her kitchen that Miss 
Judith Temple had made a mistake in sending out a black 
who could neither sew swiftly nor make a marmalade, and 
who must go back to the city that evening. 

After dark we took the Dinah out to the e:ate and dis- 
missed her, and then coming in Mith secrecv. Mistress 



276 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Logan took Richard to the cellar, to the entrance of the 
famous " subterranean passage," and put him in there, 
where she had stored food, lights, soap, water, and 
clothes. There he remained until the next evening — the 
evening of December 2d. Then Mistress Logan and I 
went down to the subterranean passage to dismiss Richard 
to go to White Marsh. He was now properly dressed. 
He thanked Mistress Logan, and kissed her hand; he 
then took my hand, but I slipped it away as fast as pos- 
sible and put it behind me. He looked curiously at me, 
then said : 

"I put my life in your hands, and you have saved me. 
Will you add yet to your goodness by giving me one lit- 
tle lock of hair — a memento of the wit and bravery that 
preserved me from a disgraceful death?" 

Now when I gave Thomas Otis a lock of my hair he 
said he would never carry any other, and I said I would 
never give a lock to any one else ; besides, to me it would 
seem like a coquette to give a lock of hair to two folks, 
so I drew back, saying, with more than needful earnest- 
ness : 

" No, no — I could not think of such a thing." 

Mr. Reid looked hurt and turned away. Presently he 
renewed his thanks. I begged him to feel no obligation ; 
I would have done as much for any man in the Patriot 
army — and the strange creature liked this saying even less 
than the other. 

" Come," quoth Mistress Logan, " let there be an end 
of compliments." 

So she led the way with a taper, and Richard and I 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



Til 



followed her through the long, dark underground way, 
that was like a tomb. At last we made a turn ; the low 
roof of the passage dripped moisture, and a chill breath 
of night air swept along it, and there on a bowlder, in the 
light of Mistress 
Logan's taper, sat 
an Indian, motion- 
less as a statue. I 
stopped and held 
my breath at sight 
of the grim face. 
Mistress Logan 
stepped on one 
side. The Indian 
rose, saying : 

" Follow me — 
to Washington.'' 
Richard Reid hesi- 
tated. The Indian 
pushed his toma- 
hawk in his belt, 
gathered closer his 
powder-horn and 
musket, and repeated : " Let a white man trust Logan, 
the M'hite man's friend. Follow Logan to Washington." 

All in a moment the two were gone, and Mistress Logan 
and I stood alone in the passage by the little light of our 
taper, and far off I thought I saw shining through some 
opening a single star. 




TA-CA-JUTK LOGAN, THE WHITE IMAN'.S FKIEND. 



278 PATRIOT ASD TOBY 



CHAPTER XI. 

February 27, 1778. 
Y last entry in this diary was made at various times, 
and I now continue the account of my adventures. 

Cousin Judith had promised that Captain Seaforth 
would ride out to Mistress Logan's, and bring me home 
♦ on the 3d. But on that day no Henry appeared, and I 
made myself contented with our good friend, with whom 
my previous acquaintance had been slight; she had been 
a great friend of my Uncle John's wife. 

Logan House is one of the finest houses that I have ever 
been in. The walls and walks are of bricks, brought from 
England by the confidential secretary of William Penu. 
Around two of the fire-places are blue and white tiles, 
with Scripture pictures upon them ; and the other fire- 
places have plain white tiles. These all came from Hol- 
land. The furniture is solid oak and mahogany, and, with 
the carpets, was all brought from the mother country. 
The rooms are mostly wainscoted to the ceiling, and 
these shining oaken panels came from over seas. The 
linen, china, and silver are also very splendid ; and I had 
opportunity to see all, as Mistress Logan was preparing 
for her dinner-party on the 4th. I made sure I would 
be sent for on that morning, but no one came. Mistress 
Loffan said to me : 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO 279 

"Be content; there is sure to be some good in it. I 
have learned to take each day as it comes, and make the 
best of it." 

" But my uncle does not favor our having to do with any 
gayeties in these sad times," I replied, in a flutter. 

" If he leaves you here you must e'en see and take part 
— and may get some good to yourself and others," said 
she. "Wine -loosens some people's tongues wondrously." 

Well, as no one came to fetch me, and the hour for the 
dinner drew nigh. Mistress Logan sent her maid to dress 
me in some of Miss Logan's clothes ; and I submitted to 
be arrayed as she ordered. Accordingly she rolled my 
hair in a fine tower, and made two long curls behind, so 
that I burst out laughing, and repeated to Mistress Logan 
the Avords of Mr. Pope : 

" This nymph, for the destruction of mankind, 
Cherished two locks, which, graceful, fell behind." 

The maid then put upon me a petticoat of peach-colored 
satin, and a trained gown of pearl-colored brocade cut 
square at the neck, and thereunder a tucker of white 
lace. My sleeves were close to the elbow, and there 
fell open, with a filling of white lace. I had on long 
embroidered gloves, a bouquet at my belt, high-heeled 
slippers, and clock stockings. I had never been so 
fine in my life, and I M'ondered how my uncle would 
stare to see me. Mistress Logan gave me a French fan of 
much size and beauty, and she said to me : 

"There is nothing equal to a fan for concealing embar- 
rassment, hiding a thought, or covering a design. You 
can distract all a gentleman's attention to the motions of 



280 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

your fan while you may be laying a plan to make use 
of liis apparently idle observations. Regard this dinner- 
party as a part of the history of the country. There 
have been less patriotic deeds than Mistress Logan's 
dinners.^' 

Now I saw that there was much meaning in her speech, 
and I set myself to ponder it. Presently I said : 

"Mistress Logan, the maid while she dressed me enter- 
tained me with a long tale of how this house is haunted, 
and she says none of the servants dare go about it at 
night alone." 

" 'T is an idea I cultivate," says she, clasping her brace- 
lets ; and, rising her voice as a servant passed : " 't is cer- 
tainly haunted," then lower, to me: "^Tis needful for 
a house to be haunted when there is a secret passage 
therein ; " and, taking a key from her escritoire, she hung 
it by her dressing-table, remarking: "Abbey, 'tis tlie key 
of the door we went in at the other evening — could you 
find it alone, do you think ? " 

" Both key and door," I replied, promptly. 

"I do not mind telling you how the place is haunted — 
you saw the spirit last night: Ta-ga-jute Logan, son of 
Shikellimus. He is there when news is to be carried." 

I looked from the window to the hill-side under which 
is the vault where the Logan dead are laid, and where 
Shikellimus, the Cayuga chief, is buried, and understood 
why the servants think he haunts the ground. 

The guests began to arrive, in fidl luiiform: huge 
Avigs, powder, jewels, stars, ribbons — a grand assemblage; 
among them Colonel Nelson, who was most attentive to 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 281 

me, and said casually that all the family were well, and 
that Cousin Judith hoped I was enjoying myself. He 
asked also if the cook was satisfactory, and I replied that 
he must judge of that by the dinner. 

Indeed it was a magnificent dinner, and most heartily 
eaten ; and then wines and other liquors were brought on, 
and a health — "The Philadelphia Ladies" — was drunk 
all around, though Colonel Nelson and I only put our 
glasses to our lips. Then Mistress Logan was handed to 
the door by General Knyphausen, and we ladies followed 
her. When at last a number of the gentlemen joined us 
it was evident that they had taken a deal of wine, for 
they were flushed, and talked loudly. Colonel Nelson 
had come to the drawing-room soon after us ladies, and 
frequently looked at his watch, saying they must be in 
the city early. He also went back to the dining-room, I 
dare say to urge his friends to limit their potations. One 
light-brained Captain, placing himself in a M'ide window- 
seat by Miss Logan, vowed that he would be merry while 
he mio-ht; 'twas bad enouo-h to s-o out and be killed when 
the time came. Then catching sight of Colonel Nelson, 
he swore that the Colonel was in such a hurry for them 
to jro out and catch Washino;ton that he could scarce eat 
his dinner; and again, would bet a ring to a bracelet that 
before noon next day the rebels at White Marsh would 
be done for. Colonel Nelson caught some of these 
maudlin speeches, and the manner in which he took 
them to heart and managed to check them, told to Mis- 
tress Logan and me, who Avere alert for revelations, that 
attack on our army was intended. We looked swiftly at 



282 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

each other, but gave no sign. In a few moments Mis- 
tress Logan sailed by nie as I was talking, so glibly as I 
might, with the Colonel and another, and said she : 

"Abbey, -would you believe that I left the key to the 
silver closet hanging by my dressing table?" 

" Eh," said I, " what a fearful piece of carelessness, 
with so many strange servants about the house " — and I 
flirted my fan and looked indifferent. So she spoke a 
compliment or two to this one or that one, and lent her 
fan to General Knyphausen to hold, and showed her 
bracelet to Colonel Nelson, and said carelessly to me : 

" Do, child, go and look about that key. Suppose my 
spoons should be stolen ! " 

" Get these officers to remember you when next they 
take up a collection in the Jerseys," said I, boldly ; 
whereat all laughed but Colonel Nelson, who looked 
mortified. 

"Do go, child," urged Mistress Logan. 

"Hold my fan and my kerchief, Colonel," said I, put- 
ting on Bessie as well as I knew how, 'Svhile I go look 
after the spoons." 

So off I went, throwing a jest here and there as I 
passed, 'and sailed along until I reached the stair-top, 
when I darted for the key, tossed my train over my arm 
and ran down the back way. I seized a second to spring 
into a closet, where a hidden door led to a small cellar, 
and going down thither I felt for the door of the pas- 
sage, and turned the key in the lock. When I had drawn 
shut the door after me I found myself all in the dark, 
but I concluded to venture on, as the passage had no 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



283 



ways leading into it, and -svlien I ran a few steps I came 

to a little lamp burning on a ledge of rock. I took the 

lamp and sped along, made the turn and came, as the day 

before, upon an Indian seated, with his rifle leaning 

against his knee. Nei- 

ther his eyes nor his 

body moved as I came 

up. Truly T do not 

marvel that those who 

have seen this one 

stalking around the 

grounds or sitting in 

a shadow, have called 

this place haunted. 

"How long does it 
take you to go toWash- 
ington?" I asked. 

He opened and shut 
his mouth once or 
twice, Avithout a sound. 
I saw that few words 
were best words, so I "^ --} 

said : "Subterranean Passage under the Logan House." 

"Go quickly. Tell tlie Americans that they will be 
attacked to-night. Let there be wings to your feet ! " 

The Indian slowly rose up, replying: 

"But one hour to sunset; this night is near; Logan's 
news is late." 

"Too late?" I cried, in anguish at the thought. 

The Indian looked back encouragingly. 




2S4 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

"Logan is not the only news-bearer. Washington is a 
chief of many eyes." 

He vanished in the darkness and I turned to hurry 
back. I had ruined my slippers in tlje damp passage, 
but I took some others from Mistress Logan's dressino-- 
room and hastened down to the parlor. The yard was 
full of horses and servants; our guests were departing. 
In a great bustle they hurried away, and — the officers did 
not ride toward Philadelphia, but to Germantown. Later 
in the evening we heard the hollow, rushing sound that 
once would have seemed to me the rolling of waves on 
Plymouth coast, but now is known as the tramp of march- 
ing battalions. 

The 5th, the 6th and the 7th of December passed, and 
no news from the city, no one coming for me. On the 
night of the 6th General Howe marched back on German- 
town, as we found from a servant stationed there to gather 
news. On the 7th he returned upon the Americans. All 
this argued well for our side, who must have been fore- 
warned and holding their own. On the 8th, about three 
o'clock, we had news that General Howe was returning. 
We went to the attic and looked out through the trap-door 
on the roof, and sure enough, before dark we saw detached 
companies, and then whole regiments, marching toward 
Philadelphia. Whatever else they had done, they had not 
carried General AYashington captive. Presently we saw a 
squad of ten men leave the road and come toward the 
Logan Plouse. ISIistress Logan rushed down stairs, sent 
her boy to bid them in for a hot supper, and having had 
them conducted to a room in the long; Hue of offices 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 285 

stretching behind the house, where was burning the laun- 
dry fire, she set the servants to carrying in huge platters 
of bread, beef and cheese, and herself made a kettle of 
punch — luckily more hot than strong. She graciously dis- 
pensed this herself, and between her welcome and her 
questions she got information that General Howe had ac- 
complished nothing ; the Americans had been prepared at 
every point, and, having been twice baffled, Howe was re- 
turning, with loss of over one hundred men. 

On the 9th I was restless, and desired Mistress Logan 
to send me to town, but she refused. On the 10th I res- 
olutely spun and read all day until three o'clock, when 
chancing to look out of the window, I saw Pompey riding 
up to the gate. I flew to speak with him. He handed me 
a letter and a large parcel, and said he must ride home 
quickly, before dark. 

"But can I not go with you, Pompey?" I cried. 

"Missey Judith remarked you was goin' to lib here a 
while," replied Pompey, gathering up his reins. Then he 
added: "Good-bye, Miss Abbey, ef I nebber see you no 
more. So many sogers lyin' roun', Pomp mos' likely neb- 
ber git home libe." 

AYhen Pompey had hastened away I opened Judith's 
note. She merely said that she was glad that I was en- 
joying myself, and that she had sent me some clothes. I 
could not tell what she meant; but Mistress Logan as- 
sured me that doubtless she intended much more than she 
said, as I would one day discover. Wise people put 
little in letters that may be read at the head of an enemy's 
brigade. 



286 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



There was no reason why I should not enjoy myself at 
Mistress Logan's. She was very kind, and I read and 
sewed, and we often had officers oome out from the city 
to call upon us. On Christmas Day we dressed the 
house in green, and put a big Yule-log in the fire-place, 
and Mistress Logan had a little pig roasted, with a lemon 
in his mouth, lying on a bed of parsley, and a wreath of 




" Bringing in the Yule-log at Logan House." 

holly on his head. Captain Andre rode out from town 
with Captain Banks and ate dinner with us. We heard, 
incidentally^ that General Washington had removed all his 
army from White Marsh on the 12th, and that on the 19th 
he had reached Valley Forge : and Indian Logan told 
Mistress Logan that the General had built log cabins and 
made a town in the woods, but that the soldiers were very 
poor, " worse oiF than Indians " This news of the sufFer- 
iugs of our Patriots filled me with grief. I could scarcely 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AOO. 287 

bear to be warm and well fed while I knew that our sol- 
diers were shivering and hungry. * 

I was becoming quite homesick and greatly uneasy con- 
cerning my uncle's family, when, about three o'clock on the 
31st, I chanced to look out of the gate, and saw there my 
Uncle John and Captain Seaforth, just dismounting. Harry 
only remained a few minutes; then he shook hands with 
uncle and wished him a safe return, and so galloped down 
the road. AVhen he was gone uncle turned to me, saying: 
"Abbey, we are going to Valley Forge to see Charles." 
Now I must say that on the morning when I carried 
Mr. Reid out of Philadelphia in the guise of a black cook 
we had had him early in a little room up stairs, where 
Judith and I had served him a notable breakfast, and as 
he ate he told us a terrible tale of the suiferin<i;s of our 
army, destitute of stores and shelter for winter, of their 
bare feet and nearly naked bodies ; of their hunger, cold 
and sickness ; of the lack even of straw to keep their 
tired bodies from the wet winter earth ; of their heroic 
patience, courage and faith ; and as he told us, Judith and 
I wept for sympathy. But when I was fairly gone, and 
the second day had passed, and the inquiry for the sup- 
posed "spy'' had ceased, Judith told Uncle John the story, 
and of the miseries of Charles's men, and maybe Charles 
himself suifered. So my uncle resolved to go to the camp 
on a visit, and communicated his desire to get out of the city 
to Mr. Seaforth, and he told him, under pledge of secresy, 
of the attack to be made by Howe, and that he must not 
think of leaving until the event of that was known. 

After that he waited until news of encampment came.. 
19 



288 -P-4 272/02' AND TOR Y: 

As my uncle did' not like to implicate Mr. Seaforth too 
deeply in our troubles, the family concluded that Susan- 
nah should ask Colonel Nelson to get her father and me 
a pass through the lines to visit his son. It went hard 
with both my uncle and Susannah to ask the favor, but. 
for Charles's sake it was done, and getting his pass by 
noon on the 31st of December, he was thus far on his way. 
After my uncle had finished his story I, yet pondering 
why I was to go with him, said suddenly, 

"Uncle, how stout you have grown in these few days 
by past ! " 

"Stout!" cried he, " Prithee, Mistress Logan, lend me 
a room, where I may dress myself anew, for I have on at 
this moment no less than four flannel shirts and two waist- 
coats of duffel 'gray, and I am like to choke." 

" Truly they will keep some poor Patriots warm this 
winter," said Mistress Logan, bidding a servant have my 
uncle to a bed-chamber. When he had gone she said to 
me : 

" Your uncle carries under his saddle a marvelous good 
horse-blanket, which he will doubtless leave at camp. So 
shall you have a blanket to carry; and as it is cold 
weather one can dress warmly, and I doubt not I can dis- 
pose of some flannels on you that will not come amiss at 
Valley Forge." 

After supper my uncle said : 

" Mistress Logan, after I am out of British lines I shall 
ride around to my farm and get a horse and load it with 
clothes, bacon and blankets that I have in hiding under 
my barn; and Abbey and I will fill our saddle-bags with 



OXE IIUXDRED YEARS AGO. 289 

things for the hospital; but, 'money answereth all things,' 
is a word of truth, and if you can hide upon Abbey some 
three hundred Spanish dollars of that I intrusted to you 
last summer, it will be well." 

" No doubt it can be quilted into a petticoat," said she. 

So Mistress Logan bid me come with a candle, and we 
two went to the subterranean passage again, and she, 
picking a brick from the wall, revealed a place where 
money was hidden. 

"This is your uncle's," said she; "safe from fire or 
thief;" and she counted out the hard, bright dollars, and 
we took them, tied in her apron, to her room. Then we 
said good-night below and shut her room, and Mistress 
Logan ripped up most part of a petticoat of blue damask, 
and, stretching it on a frame, she and I, with busy fingers, 
(juilted the money into it, and it was a weighty petticoat 
indeed. However, I was to ride, and my roan could 
carry me and my rich garment. So I perceived that I 
was to go with my uncle as his unsuspected money-purse ! 

ISText day, before light, we had our breakfast, and the 
horses were brought round in good order, and a blanket 
was put on mine under the saddle, and warmly wrapped 
as when I went to Trenton, I rode off with my uncle, and 
after we were out of the British lines with General Howe's 
pass, we directed our steps to ray uncle's farm below 
Swede's Ford. When w© got out of the British lines my 
uncle provided himself with a permanent pass from Gen- 
eral Washington, which he ripped out of the cuff of his 
coat. We went along at our best speed and did not delay, 
except once to water the beasts, uutiJL wc i:eached my 



290 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

uncle's flirin. This farm is rented to a man of scrupulous 
honesty and singular selfishness. He is so honest that he 
would die before he touched or betrayed the store that 
my uncle hath hidden under the great barn ; yet he is so 
selfish that he cares for neither party in this war, merely 
to save what he hath and owe nothing to either side ; the 
consequence is that he is fleeced by all. We found him in 
great turmoil of spirit because General Washington hath 
been forced to levy a contribution on the vicinage, and 
the foragers had carried from him a pig, a load of hay, 
and some bushels of corn. My uncle said to him, " Per- 
haps they thought you were a Tory." 

" But when the British last came by," said he, " they 
drove oif from me a good plow horse, a fine young steer, 
and burnt mv biggest straw stack in the field." 

" Doubtless they thought you were a Whig," said my 
uncle. 

" I am neither Whig nor Tory. All I am anxious for 
is to be my own man and save my own property. I don't 
care whether Gcorc^e Third reigns or Washino-ton is Die- 

t:^ o c7 

tator. All I want is good crops and leave to sell them, 
and keep the money." 

" But there is a principle at stake ! " I cried. 

" I don't care for principles, only for money," said he, 
doggedly. 

My uncle paid him for a load of straw and a beef, 
which he was to bring to camp next day. My uncle 
then had a horse loaded with clothing and l)lankets, and 
what beans and bacon he could gather. He also filled 
my saddle-bags and his own with various small stores for 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



291 



the sick. Finally, he asked if there were any fowls, that 
we might take Charles his Christmas dinner. The farmer 
said every feathered thing had been carried oif save a 
cock and a turkey gobbler, botli aged and wary, which 




SUPPLIES FOK ARMY AT VALLEY FOKGE. 



neither Whig or Tory had been able to catch. My uncle, 
however, beguiled these veteran birds with corn and 
caught them. Having killed them, he hung them across 
our pack-horse, and we set forth again on our travels, my 
uncle leading the laden horse, and what with his saddle- 
bags and mine being roundly stuifed, and he having a 
bundle of my clothes behind him, we looked like a pair 
of peddlers. We came shortly to Swede's Ford and found 
the ferryman in readiness, so without difficulty crossed 
the Schuylkill. When the man found we were going 
to the camp he would not take any pay for ferriage, and 



292 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 




ENCAMPMENT AT VALLEY FORGE. 



he shed tears of joy at thought of even a little help going 
to the soldiers. He said if he had not been old and lame 
he would be in the army himself. By the time ^xe reached 
the " King of Prussia Tavern " we were very hungry, for 

we had not stopped to eat at 
the farm lest we might have 
delays at the ferry and need 
all our time. "We now tar- 
ried to get a good dinner. 
After dinner we hastened on 
and soon came to the camp. 
The genius of our General 
has changed this piece of forest to a frontier town ; the huts 
are made of logs, they are of size fourteen by sixteen feet ; 
the roofs are split slabs ; the chimneys are clay-covered ; 
the height of ^he walls are six and a half feet; the doors 
are of slabs, some few boards ; the huts for the officers are 
in a line in the rear of the troops. Our arrival was 
greeted with some curiosity, but there was a general court- 
esy and kindness shown in every face. A young sergeant 
undertook to lead us to the hut where Charles lives with 
a number of other officers. He told us that the General 
had been living in a marquee, but that now the camp was 
completed ho had moved his quarters to the adjacent 
farm-house of Isaac Potts. We heard a great bustle in 
Charles's cabin, and found that the officers within were at 
carpenter work trying to make themselves a table and 
some stools, and Charles and another were busy putting 
additional clay plaster on their chimney. Being called he 
came forth, his hands and clothes bedaubed with clay, in 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 293 

spite of which he kissed us right heartily. I was helped 
from my horse and given a seat in the cabiuj the seat 
being only the end of a log with a square of slab nailed 
to the top thereof. My uncle gave Charles the blanket 
which he carried, Charles acknowledging that he had none, 
as he had wrapped his about Robert Shirtliffe, who had 
been wounded in the attack on White Marsh. My uncle 
also gave the inmates of this cabin, who were the com- 
missioned officers of two companies, the veteran gobbler 
and a portion of beans and bacon for their New Year's 
dinner, which I volunteered to cook for them, if they 
would find me a kettle. My uncle promised these gen- 
tlemen the beef which he had ordered over for next 
morning as a dinner for their two companies, and as many 
more men as it would reach unto. They advised him to 
give the straw that was to come, and the other blankets 
to the sick in hospital, and Charles asked one of his 
friends to convey what presents we had brought for the 
hospital at once to the nurse. My cousin said that he 
thought he could get lodging for me with Mistress Isaac 
Potts, at whose house the General was in quarters. So, 
leaving our remaining provisions in his cabin, he con- 
ducted us thither. N. B. — We had sent the cock to the 
hospital for a soup. 

At Isaac Potts' my uncle called upon the General, and 
I, getting a place by myself in the attic, made it my first 
business to rip the dollars out of my petticoat ; never had 
money been so incommodious to me. It was dark night 
by the time I was done, indeed I had a candle of Mis- 
tress Potts for an hour to finish making the ijetticoat 



294 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

wearable, and after that I went to bed. My uncle re- 
turned with Charles to his cabin. Early next day my 
uncle came for me, and as I had liad my breakfast I went 
with him to the camp, and directed my way to the hos- 
pital, wondering much how poor Robert Shirtliife had 
fared. I read the riddle in a moment, for a nurse was 
stooping over a patient, and that nurse was — Hannah 
Dana. But, oh, how changed is Hannah ! Her face is 
worn, her hair is gray, she looks twenty years older ; and 
as I clasped her hard, rough hand, and felt what she had 
done and suffered for our cause, tears of very shame rolled 
over my cheeks ; for I had all this while done nothing. 

Only a few of the sick are in this hospital, for it is too 
small for a tenth part of those who need. Hannah said 
she had carried the blanket that my uncle sent her to a 
sick man lying on the earth in a cabin, and that she 
should make the broth go as far as she could. I set 
about helping her care for her patients, put her hospital 
in order, and prepare their food. While we were busy 
Richard Reid came in. Said Hannah, " I would have 
died of very despair and heart-ache here had it not been 
for this good friend. He labors for the sick night and 
day, contrives beds for them, robs himself to feed them, 
and reads and })rays with them." 

After Ave had done what was possible in the hospital, 
Richard and Hannah went off to see other sick soldiers, 
and I went to Robert Shirtliffe, whom before I had not 
dared approach. " Deborah," I said, " how fare you "? " 

"Safe yet, thanks to Hannah," said Deborah. "When 
first I felt the ball go through my shoulder, all else was 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



295 




ilANNAH DANA 



29G PATRIOT AND TORY: 

lost in the horrible thought that now I should be dis- 
covered. I prayed God to have mercy on me, and let 
me die at once. But I was picked up and carried to one 
side, and in an hour or two, during which I suffered the 
agonies of death from apprehension, some one stopped 
by me crying, "What, Bob! wounded? Cheer up, now; 
we will save you." And it was your cousin. He had 
his blanket wrapped around me, and I was carried back 
of the encampments. I was nearly senseless from terror 
when I was jjutdown, and Captain Temple went off to find 
help for me. He came back at last, saying, " Cure Bob ; I 
owe my life to him." I opened my eyes to beg to be let 
alone, and there stood Hannah Dana! She did not rec- 
ognize me until, as she bent down, I whispered, " Keep 
my secret, or let me die." By Hannah's nursing I am 
now nearly well, and as long as she stays near ns, I feel 
safe. Hardly had Deborah finished whispering her story 
to me than Thomas Otis came rushing into the tent. He 
is now lieutenant. Of course I was very glad to see 
Thomas, and he was begging me to eat my New Year's 
dinner with him, when he stopped short, recalling that he 
had nothing to eat. I divined the cause of his trouble, 
and begged him to make up a party of Mr. Reid, Joseph 
Dana and Hannah, and I would eat dinner with them, 
and, indeed, provide the viands myself. Just here Mr. 
Bowdoin came into the hospital, and he must needs be 
invited to join our feast. While I was arranging with 
Thomas to find me some flour, my uncle bustled up aglow 
with charitable feelings, as he had a whole load of straw 
to bestow on the needy. He told me the beef was already 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 29.7 

butchered, and as many poor fellows as it would suffice 
for were to have a dinner therefrom. Poor men, some 
of them in this bitter weather have not tasted meat for 
four days. Hannah Dana came running at full speed to 
direct how the straw was to be distributed to the sick for 
beds, and hearing of beef, she called to Mr. Bowdoin to 
run and beg the big bones to make soup for her patients. 
Then I remembered that I must go and cook the dinner 
for Charles's mess. Charles brought a black boy to help 
me, and he dressed the turkey and replenished the fire in 
the chimney; but it smoked sadly, the wood being green. 
I pinned up my sleeves and skirt, and covered myself 
with a check apron that had been in my bundle. Charles 
brought me some flour, and the black boy found two 
kettles. I hung these over the fire, and set the turkey to 
boil in one, as it was too tough for roasting, and I put 
the beans in the other. For want of kettles I boiled the 
bacon with the beans; and I made some dumplings of a 
singular variety to boil with the turkey. By the time I 
had so prepared the dinner that the black boy could 
serve it, and had made the hut tidy, decorated it with 
green, and laid the table, it was time for me to go and 
cook the other feast. Charles and his friends implored 
me to stay, but they had uncle, and I had promised my 
other friends; so Charles escorted me to the hut behind 
the hospital, where Hannah cooks. Thomas Otis had 
prepared a table, and had made a bright fire, and a green 
bower. I had sent over some beans to Hannah, and they 
were already boiling ; so I made a pudding with some 
dried fruit that my uncle had brought, and I cooked 



298 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

some bacon to a turn. This was our feast. Mistress Lo- 
gan and Cousin Judith would have pitied us, but we were 
all hungry, and happy to see each other, and so we en- 
joyed our dinner amazingly. Mr. Bowdoin was kind, 
but restrained ; he did not mention Bessie until I said 
that she was in Philadelphia, and well, when he replied 
that he would trouble my uncle with a letter to her. 
Isaiah Hooper had been abijcnt from camp, but he re- 
turned before we had finished dinner, and sat down to eat 
with us. ^Iv uncle gave the shirts and M'aistcoats which 
he had brought, to the most needy men; he also, under the 
general's advice, made the best use possible of his three 
hundred dollars. 

We had intended to return home by the 6th of Jan- 
uary, but on the day before we would have set out, dear 
Charles was taken with a raging fever. By great good 
fortune we got leave to take Charles to the attic of Mr. 
Potts' house. They picked a hole in the chimney, and 
put in the attic a Franklin stove, for which alike I 
blessed the owner and the philosopher. Mr. Potts and 
my uncle made a pallet for Charles by canvas nailed on 
sticks. They also made a screen to shelter him from 
draughts, and Mrs. Potts lent me a curtain from her bed 
to cover it. My uncle went to the farm and got me 
three sheets and a blanket, also a cup or two. The attic 
was very chill, but I kept hot bricks in Charles's bed, and 
so prevented his taking cold. My uncle delayed a week, 
torn between anguish at leaving Charles, and a desire to 
go to the three maidens whom he had left alone in the 
city. As there was no prospect of a speedy recovery of 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 299 

our patient, my uncle at last left him in my hands, and 
me in the care of Mistress Potts, and set out for home. 
Mistress Logan thrice sent me presents by the Indian^ 
a pillow-case, and two shirts, a parcel of rice, one of 
sugar, and a packet of tea, also some jelly. The Indian 
was so much my friend in need, that as a token of my 
gratitude, I gave him a ring with a turquoise set therein ; 
as he could not get it on a finger, I hung it to his neck 
by a silken string. 

While I was constantly occupied in nursing Charles I 
often saw Hannah Dana. ]\Ir. Bowdoin, Joseph Dana, 
Thomas Otis, and Mr. Reid also came by turns to sit up 
with my patient at night. Robert Shirtliife being recov- 
ered also was useful. During the day I kept warm by 
wearing my fur cloak, unless I was obliged to add it to 
Charles's bed-clothes. My heart ached for my poor cousin 
when I saw him lying in that bare attic, and contrasted 
it with the luxurious home to which he had always been 
accustomed. 

The destitution here is deplorable; men are almost 
naked, the well fall ill from want of food and clothing, 
and the sick die by scores for want of beds and proper 
diet. I have much ado to keep Charles provided with 
food fit for his case, but Mistress Potts allows me to cook 
whatever I can for him in her kitchen. In February, 
while I was yet watching by Charles, Lady "Washington 
came to the camp. I had longed much to see one so 
famous for her goodness, courage, and fine manners. She 
was very kind to me when she met me ; she often sent 
food to Charles, and she inquired after him every day; 



300 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



she wrote to Dame Warren while I was in the house, and 
allowed me to send a line with hers. After she came the 
General built a log cabin for a dining-room, which made 
their quarters more comfortable. I was asked to dine 

with them one day, and as 
Mistress Logan had sent 
me some clothes by the 
Indian, I was able to make 
a decent appearance. The 
dinner was only bacon, 
greens, a beef pie, and an 
/ apple pie ; but it Avas served 
with all ceremony, as if it 
had been a royal feast, and 
Captain Heury Lee, the 
LADY WASHINGTON. Geucral's favorite, whom 

they call " Light Horse Harry," and who is always doing 
brave, dashing things, handed me in to dinner. I was 
so overawed at being at the same table with General and 
Lady AVashington, persons whom my fancy has set among 
the gods rather than among human beings, that I could 
hardly eat a mouthful, and Lady "Washington said my 
nursing the sick had ruined my ajipetite. After dinner 
she led me to speak of my Plymouth home, and of Dame 
Mercy, and my grandfather, and she wiped her eyes sev- 
eral times Avhen I told her of grandmother's dying of a 
broken heart. She also talked with me about spinning 
and weaving, and said 'twas a pity such useful arts were 
going out of fashion with young women. 

One day while I was in the kitchen making a gruel, 




ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 301 

Isaac Potts came in, and seating himself nigh the fire- 
place, covered his face with his hands, seeming deeply 
moved. Plis wife and I were alone in the kitchen, and 
she said, " Speak, what ails thee, Isaac ? " 

He then told us that he strolled up the creek, looking 
to the affairs of his farm, when he heard a solemn voice 
in the woods, not far from the mill-dam. Anxious lest 
some spy, or treachery, might be on foot, he drew thither, 
when he saw the General's horse tied to a sapling. Still 
pressing quietly on he saw the General on his knees under 
a tree, tears pouring over his cheeks, his hands held up 
busy in prayer for his soldiers. At this sight Isaac Potts 
hastened to withdraw, and as he told us thereof, he wept. 
Then rising, he said to his wife, " I tell thee, if there is 
any one living on this earth whom God will hear, it is 
George AVashington, and I feel an assurance that under 
such a commander there can be no doubt of our eventu- 
ally establishing our independence, and that God in his 
providence has so willed it." But this good General 
is sorely tried by enemies, by a dilatory Congress, by 
envy, and by the remissness of commissary, quarter- 
master, and paymasters, who leave upon him the whole 
burden of this liorrible destitution.. 

After Logan had come several times to me with parcels 
he appeared one evening with a letter. He was partially 
intoxicated, and I noticed that my talisman was not on 
his neck. I asked, "Logan, where is my ring?" 

He replied, solemnly, "Logan's heart is black; he has 
drunk the fire-water, and the maiden's ring is gone." 

I said, "Logan, it is most wicked to drink fire-water 3 



302 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

some day it may lead you to evil deeds, or to your own 
death." 

He replied, with drunken gravity, " Logan is the white 
man's friend ; fire-Avater is white man's evil gift. The 
Great Spirit is angry with him who drinks fire-water." 

" Since you know that, drink it no more," I said. 

He answered, " Who now cares for Logan, the chief 
of the empty cabin? Let him die of fire-water. White 
maiden, I^ogan is the white man's friend ; he sat in his 
cabin while the braves went by to war. But Captain 
Cresap killed all the family of Logan. Since then the 
war-path has known the foot of Ta-ga-jute, and his 
hatchet has been red." 

"Logan," I said, "perhaps it was not Captain Cresap, 
and if it had been, leave God to avenge; it is wicked to 
avenge yourself." 

He replied: "The Great Spirit is busy enough avenging 
the white man ; the Indian will attend to his own affairs. 
Cornstalk took the war-path, many Indians went with 
Dunmore, but Logan is lonely in heart and cabin." 

" But, Logan, if you will leave fire-water and revenge, 
you will be happier, and the love of the Great Spirit will 
follow you." He turned the conversation adroitly, tipsy 
as he was. 

"Is the young man better?" 

"Much better thank you, Ta-ga-jute." 

"And the Captain I led from the passage?" 

" He also is well." 

"And the beardless young officer, who talked by the 
irate?" 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 303 

That meant Thomas Otis. I replied, "All are well." 

Then with a grin that made me feel guilty of being a 
coquette, which surely I have neither wish nor opportunity 
to be, he said: "The white maiden has many to love her, 
Logan not one. Ta-ga-jute will go now to the broad 
waters of the Northwest, and to the river that runs toward 
the sunset. Peace shall beam, but not for Logan. Ta- 
ga-jute wall die, and the birds shall sing over his grave, 
which will be bare of flowers, because no one has watered 
it with tears; but in the land of the Grearf; Spirit, doubt- 
less, the soul of Logan will look back and remember the 
maiden." 

Llaving said this he hurried off. Lady Washington had 
been passing the kitchen door, and looking in had seen 
me talking to the Indian, and had heard his last words. 
She said : "Is that Logan, the Mingo chief? His speech 
to Dunmore was printed in the Virginia Gazette of '75, 
and was such a fine specimen of natural eloquence that I 
preserved it." 

I would have been glad to tell her of Ta-ga-jute's 
friendships and errands of late, but that is Mistress Lo- 
gan's secret, and though she had not bidden me be silent, 
yet she had given me no leave to speak of it. 

My Cousin Charles improved rapidly when he began 

to amend, and by the middle of February he was well 

enough for me to leave him ; but I was obliged to remain 

until the end of the month, as no way offered for me to 

get into Philadelphia. After Charles was in no need of 

nursing, time hung heavily u])on my hands, for I had no 

work with me, and it was not proper for me to be much in 
20 



304 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

the camp. I helped Mistress Potts in her house, and sew- 
ing, and Lady Washington was very good to nie, and 
often had me sit with her for an hour, and also lent me 
some reading. I got of her some paper, and also pen and 
ink, and note in this, my journal, at odd times in the attic, 
but only a little, leaving gaps to be filled, lest it be 
looked over by some enemy as I go home. Thomas Otis 
came often to see me, and wanted me to walk with him, 
but I did not go beyond the house yard, as it was against 
the opinion of Mistress Potts. Richard Reid came also 
to visit me, but there was no place for me to see any one 
but by Mistress Potts' kitchen fire, the General's family 
taking up the whole house. Still, my visitors were kind 
enough to seem as pleased as they would have done in 
my Cousin Judith's parlor. 

In many a wakeful night hour I, who have been this 
winter in both armies, contrast the two. In Philadelphia 
all is riot and pleasure, feasting, love, and wine. A 
great army, well officered, well armed, well equipped, 
hearty and brave, lies in that city, kept in siege by this 
army at Valley Forge. And what an army is this! 
Naked, cold, hungry, unpaid, sick, their whole eifective 
force, as I know, to be often but half the number of 
those who delay in Philadelphia, they are kept together 
by one man, inspired by his hope, preserved by his genius. 
Surely it is the mighty power of God who restrains Gen- 
eral Howe from rushing hither some night and routing 
this whole encampment. 

Mr. Bryan Fairfax, from Virginia, the rich and notable 
royalist, visited the General this month; he desired to go 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 305 

to England, bnt returned from Xew York, having failed 
in his purjjose. The General was very loving to him; 
he says Bryan Fairfax is a true and noble man, a royalist 
for conscience' sake, and far be it from him to condemn a 
man for following his honest convictions of duty. 

But the most important event of this, February, was 
the arrival of the Baron Steuben, aid-de-eamp of Frederick 
the Great, Grand Marshal of Hohenzollern, Soldier of 
Fortune, and I know not what else. Covered with all 
the honors which Germany can heap upon a valiant offi- 
cer, he has come here, at forty-eight years of age, to heljj 
us Americans in our fight for liberty. I heard General 
Washington say that the baron was in himself worth an 
army, so great is his knowledge of military matters, and 
so thoroughly can lie drill an army. Richard Reid tells 
me that if General Greene is now made quartermaster, 
there will be great prospect of our success. 

General Steuben had been appointed Inspector-General 
of the army, and General AYashington was looking anx- 
iously for him, when one morning he clattered up to the 
door, Avith a small retinue. I was up in my sole place of 
retreat, that beautiful attic, and I thrust my head out of 
the little round window, to see what was to be seen. 
The baron is said to be forty-eight, but is gray and looks 
older; his uniform was very fine, his manners were nearly 
as grand as our General's. Mr. Reid told me after, that 
the baron is a warm admirer of our General, and is a 
man free from arrogance or pretension ; he made the 
kindest allowances for the shocking state of our army. 
The baron set al)uut drilling the men at once; he does 



306 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

all in tho most thorough manner. He speaks English 
but poorly, and the first day he was in despair because he 
could not find English enough fi:)r his multitudinous or- 
ders, and the men could not guess at the meaning of his 
French and German. The militia are quite untrained, 
and probably are fearfully stupid and awkward in the 
eyes of a soldier of Frederick the Great. In the midst 
of the baron's helpless horror, as he stood wordless, and 
the men gaping. Captain AValker, of a Xew York regi- 
ment, stepped forward, and in very elegant French offered 
his services as interpreter. The baron received him with 
enthusiasm, embraced him, made him his aid on the spot, 
and vowed that " he had not been half so happy had he 
seen an angel stejiping straight out of heaven." He calls 
the Captain " mon Valker," " mein frien," and will not let 
him leave him. After the drill had been going on for a 
week, Richard Reid took me to see it. The baron is al- 
ready much loved, because he is a sincere friend of the 
men; but his temper is hot, his patience very limited, his 
amazement at Yankee blunders excessive; he relieves his 
feelings by swearing furiously in French, German and 
English. The baron visits the men's huts, looks to their 
food and clothing and cleanliness, goes to the hospital, 
examines the doctor's reports, is up early, and busy all 
day ; dawn finds him stirring ; he is very particular in his 
dress. The day I watched the drill, I had a good station 
under a tree, and saw the troops come straggling up. 
They were in all sorts of clothes, ragged, soiled, thin, but 
better than a month ago. They came up irregularly, and 
stood every M'hich way, holding their muskets in all 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 307 

fashions, some nearly poking their bayonets in their 
neighbor's eyes. Presently up rode the baron. His uni- 
form was spotlessly neat. The Order of Fidelity and the 
Star of Knighthood glittered on his breast. His sword 
and epaulettes shone like gold. His hair was dressed as 
elegantly as for a ball-room. He began giving orders to 
form the men in a line, and after much commanding, 
pushing, awkwardness, bungling and blundering, they 
were in a long, long row. Next order was, "Shoulder 
arms," and a world of work it was to get the arms in the 
right position, and every officer in his proper place. The 
baron twisted and fumed and grew red in the face. Then 
he- passed slowly along the line, took every musket into 
his own hands to see if it were clean and polished ; and 
if he saw a tatter that might have been sewn up, shoes 
that might have been cleaner, soiled skin or spots on the 
clothes that might have been brushed off, he was not 
slow to speak. This examination took a long while, but 
the baron looked and spoke kindly, and said some witty 
things, and all evidently felt grateful to him. Then he 
resumed his position and shouted his orders, and the poor 
militia-men blundered at every one. They could not un- 
derstand, and the more the baron ordered and explained, 
and the more Captain AYalkcr interpreted the worse mat- 
ters became. The baron grew red, then ])urple, groaned, 
pounded the pommel of his saddle with his fists, and then 
broke forth into SAvearing English, French, and German, 
all at once. After a mad torrent of oaths and expletives 
he roared forth to his beloved aid: "A^icn moii ami 
Valkcr! vicu mon bon ami, vien Sacre, Donder, confound, 



308 PA TRIOT AND TOR Y : 

(liable prencl, blitzen, ach de gauclierie of clese badants ! 
je ue puis plus, kommen sie liier ! I can curse deni no 
more. I am done ! " 

A wag shouted : " Help him swear, Captain, that is what 
he wants ! " and a roar of laughter passed along the line, 
so contagious and irrepressible that the Baron himself 
joined it, and thus recovered his good humor. But in 
spite of his disadvantages I am told that under his disci- 
pline the army improves every day in health and spirits 
and drill. 

One endeavor after another to get me home had failed, 
and I began to think that I would have to be sent to my 
Uncle Matthew in Virginia for want of opportunity to 
get into Philadelphia, when the necessary arrangements 
were made, and I was allowed, on the first day of March, 
to return to my uncle. I had left home to stay two days, 
and I had been gone three months, and never twenty-five 
miles distant from my uncle's roof — such are the fortunes 
of war. I was never so glad of any thing I think, as to 
get safe back to dear Judith, and to Uncle John's protection. 
I found the city madly gay as before. Colonel Nelson de- 
voted to Susannah, and Susannah calm and reticent as ever; 
Bessie wildly flirting, and giving Mistress Seaforth worlds 
of anxiety, and Annie Seaforth very much secluded, and 
only desirous of hearing all I could tell her of every word, 
act, look, of our Charles. I brought her a ring, a letter, 
and one or two other tokens from him, which made her 
very happy. Hester plied me with questions about whom I 
had seen, and was very glad of Thomas Otis' promotion, 
which was surely good hearted in her. Pompey and 



ONE HUSDRED YEARS AGO. 309 

Nervey looked on me as one rescued from the mouth of 
a lion. 



CHAPTER XII. 



March 20, 1778. 
TF Dame Mercy "Warren ever comes to me, as she said, 
-*- for material for her history of these weighty times, 
and this young country, she will find cause for condemn- 
ing me in my carelessness of dates these three months by 
])ast. But the dame's suggestion "was only a joke, and as 
this diary is for my own self only, the dates make little 
difference, for I shall remember when things happened. 
It has been impossible for me to write regularly, or under 
fit dates for this some time, and I had to leave great void 
spaces to fill when I had my journal safe home. Since I 
returned I have been filling up and correcting. Some 
day Judith's or Charles's grandchildren may question of 
these times, and the journal of their venerable, gray, 
spectacled cousin will be a bar of final appeal. Yester- 
day after we were done dinner, and Nervey and Pompey 
had carried away the cloth, I sat by the window reading, 
Judith was sewing, and Hester was pretending to knit; 
Susannah looked out the window doing nothing. My 
uncle called her: "Daughter Susannah, come to me." 
She came slowly. "Daughter Susannah," said ray uncle, 
polishing his spectacles, " Colonel Nelson has asked my 
leave to make proposals of marriage to you. What shall 
I answer him?" 

Susannah became first redder than a rose, then whiter 



310 PATRIOT AST) TOBY: 

than a lily, finally she said, softly, " Tell him uo, 
father." 

My nncle looked closely at her — she is a great favorite 
with him, being like her dead mother. " Be candid with 
me, with yourself, with the Colonel, daughter. What are 
your objections?'' 

"I can not marry one who is in arms against my 
country, father." 

" You have received his attentions a longtime, Susannah." 

" But I did not encourage them," she cried, even tear- 
fully. " Say, Judith, have I done other than passively 
accept attentions, which he would bestow? Indeed, I told 
him that I would never marry my country's enemy." 

*'You are free from all blame, Susannah," said Judith. 

"What did he say when you told him that?" asked my 
uncle ? 

'' He said," replied my lovely cousin, blushing again, 
"that he was not an enemy to America. He was, he 
said, merely fulfilling his oath to his King, and perform- 
ing the duty of a subject; and he only wished that with- 
out further bloodshed, an honorable solution to these 
vexed questions might be found; a solution honorable to 
both parties." 

"Well," cried Hester, "the true solution is for them to 
let us alone, and we will let them alone ! " 

"AVhy not look at him in the light of his own declara- 
tion, my daughter, and accept his addresses?" 

"Father!" cried Susannah, reproachfully, "you see the 
justice of Judith's not, in these troubled times, marrying 
Henry Seaforth, whom she has known and loved for 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 311 

years; you see that she must needs delay, because he 
loves a cause which she does not love ; because her 
brother and he are in opposite armies. And am I any 
less an American, any less Charles's sister than Judith, 
that it would be right for me to marry Colonel Nelson?" 

" I only desired you to be sure of yourself, my child," 
replied my uncle. "Have you any objections to the Colo- 
nel personally?" 

" I wish," said Susannah looking away, " that he had 
been an American; or was an Englishman always on our 
side, like Lord Stirling ! " 

"■ You like the man, I see, better than his cause," said 
my uncle. 

" I like his cause so little, that I must reject the man," 
replied Susannah, though not very firmly. 

" But if the war were ended to-morrow you might 
accept the Colonel the day after?" said my uncle inquir- 
ingly. 

"Oh, father," cried Susannah, "you know the war will 
not end for many to-morrows. You must end this for 
me — by saying no." 

Then Susannah ran out of the room, looking ready to 
cry. 

" Judith," said my uncle, " what shall I do ? I have 
feared that the girl cares much for her English lover. 
She is of a gentle nature, and I am sure she will be un- 
happy, after I have said ' no.' " 

"Still, you must say it," replied Judith; "she would 
be much more unhappy to marry, or form an engagement, 
the way afiairs stand now." 



3 1 2 P^ TRIOT A SD TOR Y: 

" I shall say it," rcturnetl my uncle, " but slie will fol- 
low this man's fortunes, and mourn over his wounds, or 
death, as bitterly as if there had been an engagement be- 
tween them — and as for the Colonel personally, I do not 
know any man whom I should prefer for her husband." 

" The Colonel will not take the ' no ' for his final 
answer if he finds that Susannah's objections are not 
against him personally," said Judith. "Ah me, what a 
pity that these had not all been little girls, in war times," 
and she looked toward Hester and me, and gave a sigh 
to Susannah. I am sure our Hester will never trouble 
Judith by breaking her heart for any body, she is too 
merry and careless; and as for me I shall never marry. 
I am quite firmly resolved. 

It was just as Jtidith said about the Colonel; he pressed 
his questions so closely, that my uncle was obliged to tell 
him that the war only, so far as he knew, stood in the way 
of his* happiness. Said the Colonel, "Susannah and I are 
both young, and w^ars do not last for ever; I shall wait 
in hope, and offer myself again, as soon as peace is de- 
clared." 

My uncle, however, bound him not to renew those of- 
fers, nor press any love-making, until the war was finally 
over; also, more than that, not until the Colonel had had 
the full and free consent of his own family ; for my uncle 
plainly told him that Susannah should not go unwelcome 
into any household. 

Having pledged himself to observe my uncle's require- 
ments, the Colonel wished to continue his visits, and this 
matter was referred to Susannah. Her secret wish for his 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 313 

society, and her views of what might be prudence, were 
in a somewhat long contention ; however, she decided at 
last — " Let him come." 

" Poor Susannah," sighed Judith. 

There are rumors-afloat that General Howe is to be su- 
perseded by General Clinton; also that the British will 
not try to hold Philadelphia much longer, but will con- 
centrate their strength in and about New York. At 
this news, 

" Poor Susannah," said Judith again — but will it not be 
"Poor Judith" also, and "poor Henry Seaforth," as he 
must then go away ? 

Bessie Warley is much of her time with Mistress Sea- 
forth. I met her there the other day. I told her about 
Mr. Bowdoin, and that he seemed so Sorrowful, and was 
looking pale. Bessie asked me carelessly, 

"Did you see much of him?" 

"No," I replied; "he is so mistaken as to think me 
your enemy. Cousin Bessie, and because of that opinion 
he will not be a friend to one who is not your friend." 

" How very amusing," said Bessie, lightly. 

"Beautiful fidelity," said Mistress Seaforth. "Bessie, 
you are despising a most noble affection." 

" Do, Cousin Bessie, consider what a good man he is," 
said I, "and Avhat a safe, happy, and peaceful home you 
would have." 

" I don't care for peace so much as for pleasure," said 
Bessie, " and Mr. Bowdoin despises my sort of pleasure." 

" You managed to content yourself well with what con- 
tented him for a long while," I retorted, sharply. 



314 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

" It coukl not have lasted forever — that is, not for the 
term of one's natural existence/' said Bessie. 

" Yon make a poor exchange, I fear," said Mistress 
Seaforth, "giving up this good minister for Captain Banks. 
I have watched the Captain narrowly, Bessie, and I am 
not confident of his good intentions." 

" His intentions are good enough," answered Bessie, 
flippantly, "for yesterday he asked my father's leave to 
marry me." 

"And did you consent?" demanded Mistress Seaforth. 

" Why," said Bessie, confused, " I asked two days to 
consider, and " — she added, as one distressed and striving 
to be gay — "you see I am considering by just not con- 
sidering at all." 

"Will you tell me why you asked for that delay in 
reply?" 

" I can not tell, to save my life," responded Bessie. 
"All at once I felt as if I could not say 'yes,' and I 
would not say 'no,' and I had an irresistible desire for 
time before taking the important step. That is all I know 
about it." 

"My dear child," said Mistress Seaforth, "perhaps some 
good guardian angel put this idea of delay in your mind. 
If you truly loved this man you would not feel as you 
say you do — that you could not say 'yes;' and, child, what 
will be your married life without love? Besides, Bessie, 
what do you know of this man's character, his history, 
his private life? He is known to go to the faro-table, 
and he has been several times intoxicated." 

" But he is an officer in His Majesty's army, and ex- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 315 

pects soon to receive his promotion. He will be Major 
Banks." 

" His Majesty has some proper villains for his officers," 
said Mistress Seaforth, with a degree of heat. "The King 
can not be responsible for the personal character of all 
who buy commissions. Bessie, you know nothing of Cap- 
tain Banks; all that you have seen of him in balls, par- 
ties, theaters and calls, may be merely assumed to suit 
society; and the real man may be very different, either 
better or worse, but more likely worse, than this. Re- 
member that you do not marry merely for public occa- 
sions, but for private life, and that the man as he is at 
home, or in secret, is the man with whom you will have 
to do. If he is a deceiver, passionate, selfish, brutal, what 
will be your future? and how can you be assured that he 
is none of these? On the other hand, Mr. Bowdoin is a 
man who is well known to you in his private life, his 
personal character, and his past history; how much safer 
would your future l)e if you chose him. Besides, you ad- 
mit that he is accomplished, agreeable'* — 

"Yes, and very good-looking" — interposed Bessie — 

"And Captain Banks is none of these," said Mistress 
Seaforth, sharply. 

" But Mr. Bowdoin lives a humdrum life, in a humdrum 
place," cried Bessie. " I should die of nowhere to go 
but to church or a quilting; no fine dressing, no amuse- 
ments. I do hate these stupid Colonies, and I want to 
marry an Englishman and get to London, where there is 
some stir in life." 

" I am English, and have lived in London," said Mis- 



316 PATRIOT AXD TOBY: 

tress Seafortli, but I have been very happy in the Cohi- 
nies; happiness does not eonsist in London and gay life, 
but in mutual love and respect, and unselfishness; in 
home comfort and the fear of God, in an orderly, pious 
and reasonable living." 

" Dear Mistress Seaforth ! " cried Bessie, who had been 
attentively considering the toes of her shoes, " do you 
suppose I could get bridal lace and satin from New York? 
and where would I be married, our suite of rooms is so 
small, and I am without a chaperon to arrange for me ? " 

Now this was such an impertinent ignoring of Mistress 
Seaforth's advice, and such a bold hint that our dear lady 
herself might offer to have the marriage under her own 
supervision, that she only gave Bessie a reproving look, 
and said no more to her, leaving me to entertain her. 
Bessie asked me many questions about the caijip at Valley 
Forge, but I evaded all. Before I left Mistress Potts' 
house Lady Washington herself warned me to tell nothing 
that I had heard or seen at winter-quarters, lest, saying 
only what seemed to me harmless, I might divulge matter 
that would prove important to the enemy and injurious to 
the patriots. Lady Washington also did me the honor to 
say that I hardly needed the warning, and that I had 
much more prudence than was usual to young Avonien. 
Not for worlds would I forfeit her good opinion. 

When Bessie found it time to go home she suddenly 
realized her errors toward Mistress Seaforth, and with one 
of those bursts of penitence which are common to her, and 
real while they last, she ran and knelt down before that 
dear lady, and caressing her hand, cried: "Ah, you will 



, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 317 

not be angry with me. If I had had all my life such a 
friend as you are I should have been a better girl. Do 
smile at me. I will be good. You shall choose for me." 

" Suppose I choose Mr. Bowdoin ? " said Mistress Sea- 
forth. 

"Then I must take him; and in six months I will 
break his heart, and in six months more I will go mad 
from remorse of killing so good a man, and I will com- 
mit suicide. That will be a romance of only two chap- 
ters; a tragedy in two acts, Mistress Seaforth." 

" Romances and tragedies have nearly ruined you," 
sighed Mistress Seaforth. " Suppose I choose Captain 
Banks?" 

*^ Oh ! I'd take him — and there Avould follow reckless- 
ness, dissipations, quarrels, an elopement, divorce ; a bad 
story that, too." 

"My dear girl," said Mistress Seaforth, solemnly, "far 
be it from me to choose for you between these two men. 
My earnest, my last advice to you is, to give them both 
np ; withdraw from the society and amusements which 
you keep; read only solid reading; learn house-keeping 
of Judith ; be industrious ; follow after godliness, make it 
your aim to be a good, reputable woman, and think no 
more of marriage until you are fit to be a wife, and God 
sends you the right husband." 

Bessie looked grave, and shook her head. 

"I couldn't. I should die of so dull a life. In two 
months I should be going up and down distracted, like 
Ophelia, and Abbey would be obliged to plant roses over 
me before June. Besides, Mistress Seaforth," she added, 



318 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

in a gayer tone, "my father would be erying: ' ^Var will 
not last forever; what will you live on by and by? 
Make your hay while the sun shines, daughter Bessie, and 
have two strings to your bow.' " 

Her tone was such an absurd caricature of Mr. War- 
ley's, that I burst into a fit of laughter; but Mistress Sea- 
forth began : 

"Honor thy fa—'' 

The words died on her tongue. Who could honor 
such a father as Mr. Warley? However, Bessie had 
patched up a peace with her good friend, and the two 
kissed at parting. 

That night Bessie came to stay with me. She said she 
felt restless and lonely, and could not stay at home. I 
strove to lead the conversation toward urging her to take 
Mistress Seaforth's advice, but Bessie was in her maddest 
mood. She talked all kinds of nonsense; told how she 
would appear at court ; how she would dress and have her 
house furnished, and how she would arrange her wedding. 
Then she meddled with Judith's and Susannah's affairs, 
and declared Hester might make a sensation by her wit 
and hrusqucri^ if she chose to do so; and finally she in- 
formed me that Annie Seaforth had had an oifer of mar- 
riage from a British officer, and might have had more if 
she had not shut herself up, "wearing the willow for 
her rebel lover." This angered me, and I retorted : 

"You will please to remember that that 'rebel lover' 
is my Cousin Charles, and stands in place of a brother 
to me, and that I think he is worth being constant 
to." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 319 

"'Eh/' said Bessie; "this constancy is a great bore, 
anyhow. I'll have none of it!" 

The next afternoon she rnslied over to tell me that she 
had accepted Captain Banks, and that her fatlier, having 
had a stroke of good luck somehow, had given her 
plenty of money, so that she should send to New York 
for her trousseau. After this Bessie went and consulted 
Mistress Seaforth as to her dress and behavior, accepted 
all her advice, listened tractably when she set before her 
her duties and responsibilities, and, in fact, behaved so 
well, that at the end of a fortnight our generous friend 
offered to have her married at her house. This has made 
Bessie quite happy for the nonce, and since that she be- 
haves better than ever. As to Captain Banks, he con- 
ducts himself with propriety, and seems fond of Bessie. 
Indeed, he has just got his promotion, and is now Major 
Banks, to Bessie's vast delight; she calls him the major on 
all occasions, as if there were but one in the world! 
But surely this is any thing but a proper diary in Dame 
"Warren's understanding thereof, with so much about 
Bessie and her love-making. 

AruTT. 19, 17 78. 

Though there have been hints of the evacuation of this 
city by the British, there are as yet no visible prepara- 
tions for it, and the officers here conduct themselves as if 
they would stay forever. 'Tis said that General Howe 
hath not captured Philadelphia, but Philadelphia hath 
captured General Howe. The good city of the Quakers 
never expected to be so riotous ; my uncle says the plays 

and displays here going on, will sj^oil us all for l)eing 
21 



320 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

proper citizens of a republic, for republics, to continue, 
should have citizens grave, decent, thrifty, and self-deny- 
ing. But our Philadelphians seem generally, vying with 
the British officers in extravagance. The officers, by a 
tax on their pay, have opened a large house for amuse- 
ment. Here, in one large room, they hold a weekly ball ; 
in another is the theater; there are rooms for gaming, for 
wine suppers, for reading, and for chess. Captain Sea- 
forth and Colonel Xelson go to these last two rooms, and 
one day Captain Andre, meeting Susannah, Hester, and 
me out together — and we are seldom upon the streets 
nowadays — took us to see the curtain which he had 
painted for the theater, and prayed us to come to the rep- 
resentations which occur thrice a week, but we should 
never be allowed. Uncle was quite vexed at our going to 
view the curtain with Captain Andre. Captain Andr6 is 
quartered in Dr. Franklin's house. Mistress Bache left 
the city before the British entered. Poor soul ! it was 
hard for her to leave so commodious and dear an abode, 
filled with her good father's special treasures, and she 
had also a babe but four days old when she left. She 
carried with her all the books she could get conveyance 
for, but my uncle, who has gone several times to call on 
Captain Andre, says that the other books and all the mu- 
sical instruments are being carried off. However, as 
Captain Andre is too much the gentleman to have drunken 
riots at his abode, the house is being much better pre- 
served than many here. The ca})tain vows he will carry 
off the doctor's portrait which hangs in the dining:-room. 
Captain Andr6 gave a party last week at his house, and 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 321 

lie prayed us earnestly to attend, but my uncle would not 
permit us to do so. He says we are too gay as it is, with 
all the company coming to our house, and which we can 
not keep away. To be sure, we are polite to all that 
come, and Captain Seaforth and Colonel Nelson natu- 
rally bring their friends with them to visit us. Hester 
gives our guests some sharp touches once in a while. No 
one cares less for attentions from "our enemies" than 
does she. Hester has a harp, and plays very well upon 
it, but it has been silent since our city was captured. 
Among our visitors is an ensign, a fair little youth, who 
sees fit to admire our dark Hester prodigiously. The 
other evening he begged hard that Hester would play on 
her harp. She replied: 

" The strings are broken, and I shall not get them 
mended until our enemies are gone from America." 

"And how do you expect them to go?" asked Captain 
Andr^, sitting by. 

" By the same Gates that Burgoyne went, doubtless," 
returned she. 

Captain Andre looked vexed, but the rest of us had 
much ado to keep from laughing. Some one, to be even 
with her, asked cuttingly : 

" How is that starving army of yours doing up at 
Valley Forge?" 

But he reckoned without his host who expected to en- 
trap Hester. She spoke up quickly : 

" Oh, it is all Greene up there now, so they are living 
in clover," and good 'enough, too, for her to say it, for 
since General Greene took the commissarv our men have 



322 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

had food and clothes. Hester's wit was in the ascendant 
that evening, for when her ensign lover was goaded to 
say, '' Well, we shall go np there and bag them all some 
fine night before long," the girl retorted: 

" Once I fancied you would show us Howe that was to 
be done, but now I see there is no probability of it." 

Still they come to visit us in spite of such passages-at- 
arms as this, and I think Colonel Nelson explained the 
reason of it . the other evening to Susannah. He said : 
" Our officers here are living in riot and festivities because 
they are relieved from the restraints of home, and are 
tempted by the evil example of a few : yet amid all their 
dissipation the memory of their English homes, with inno- 
cent sisters and gentle mothers by the hearths, is like a 
shrine in their hearts ; and here in your house, and at 
JNIistress Seaforth's and some few other places in this city, 
they find all the calmness and refinement and purity which 
they themselves have driven out of other houses, and so 
they come here for the sake of more innocent days and 
honester employments than they have now." 

"Ah me ! " cried Susannah, " what a pity that they ever 
came from their good homes to do wrong and to get 
wrong ! " 

"I am glad that J came," said the Colonel. 

" There is Captain Andre engaged to be married," 
added Susannah ; " what a pity that he is here, where he 
may go into battle and be killed." 

"What a pity that he is here robbing Doctor Franklin 
of his house ! " cried Hester. 

"But Doctor Franklin is in Paris, and does not need it; 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 323 

and the captain is more careful of the place than many 
would be/' suggested Susannah, 

"Thanks to the Cliffords for taking care of it/' said 
Hester. 

Yes, Doctor Franklin is in Paris still, and Ave are in 
hopes to hear very soon that a treaty of alliance has been 
entered into with France; then our success would be sure 
indeed with such an ally. Even now our ships run into 
French ports to refit, to load, to escape pursuit ; and we 
have had several cargoes of military stores sent over; yet 
half the vessels are wrecked or captured on the way ; and 
then we take revenge by capturing a British cruiser. So 
the war goes on, vexing land and sea. 

Yesterday nncle went out to buy some chairs for our 
parlor, and took me with him. Of course we went to Mis- 
tress Ross, widow, upholsterer, as she is one of our Patri- 
ots — indeed, she made our first national flag, General 
Washington himself giving her the pattern of it, in 1776. 
"When we had looked at the chairs the widow said to my 
uncle : 

" There are some of your way of thinking back in my 
jiarlor, come in and have a crack with them." 

So she led the way to the parlor behind the shop, where, 
around the fire, were three gentlemen, who made room for 
my uncle in their midst. They offered me a seat by him, 
but, not being cold, I sat on the sofa behind them. Mis- 
tress Ross presently brought in a tray, Avith cups of coffee 
and a dish of cracknels, and treated her guests. The talk 
first ran on Avhat ncAvs Ave Avere likely to get from France. 
All hoped the best from Doctor Franklin's popularity. 



324 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

The good old sage is a favorite wherever he goes. One 
of the gentlemen was sure that we should hear of a treaty 
with Spain as early as one was made with France. My 
uncle thought not. He said : 

" Romanism in Spain has not merely cut down the plant 
Free Thought, but it has rooted it out, sowed the ground 
wherein it grew with salt, and burned it with fire. There 
is nothing left in Spain for the idea of liberty to take 
hold of. In America the idea of political freedom is the 
legitimate offspring of religious freedom ; in Catholic 
Spain there is not one emotion left to beat responsive to 
Protestantism, least of all the stern Protestantism of 
America." 

" But France is also Catholic," urged one of the gen- 
tlemen. 

"That is true. But the French nation have not yet 
felt it a sin to think. Philosophy and science there make 
a way for the notion of individual rights, and the idea of 
liberty is welcome to noble and peasant, and presses itself 
upon the attention of kings. There is opportunity there 
of alliance with America, but I doubt it will not be 
lasting." 

"Once this war is over," said one of the gentlemen, 
" we do not want allies. Set apart from the rest of the 
world as we are, we should be friendly to all nations, 
bound to none." 

On the way home I said to my uncle: "Sir, if you find 
reason for or against alliances in religious opinions, then 
Britain is our legitimate ally, being the only nation truly 
akin to us in relio-ious feelino; and historv." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 325 

"That is true/' said my uncle, "and once we get all 
questions of rights between us fairly settled, I trust Eng- 
land and America will be in friendship, a Jonathan and 
David among the nations." 

As for our aifairs here in America, my uncle says that 
the independence of the country is, iu his opinion, virtu- 
ally secured. Only Newport, New York and Philadel- 
phia are in British possession. Our cruisers are getting 
strength and number on the sea, so that it will make it 
more and more difficult for them to get troops and sup- 
plies from home; and as our armies continually become 
more effective, they will more thoroughly prevent the 
British from getting forage or foothold inland. My uncle 
always talks of the state of aifairs at dinner table. He 
desires to keep us informed, and we never have guests at 
that meal. My uncle tells us that the British are likely 
to gain advantages and territory in our Southern States, 
they being more exposed in various ways, but if the Howes 
and Clinton could be captured with their armies, or de- 
feated like Burgoyne, Ave could make peace on advanta- 
geous terms, and demand the complete evacuation of all the 
colonies by the British; and, of course, the war must go 
on until every foot of every one of the thirteen colonies 
is FREE. My uncle thinks, from what he hears, that the 
King of Prussia will succeed in preventing any more mer- 
cenaries being hired in Europe, and that M-ill make a vast 
difference to the King of England. I shall be glad to 
hear that no more men are hired out like brutes to be 
killed, and driven at the point of the bayonet from their 
homes, and wives, and little children, to come fight in a 



326 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

war about which they care nothing. We hear, too, that 
those vile men — I hate to call them princes, for princes 
should mean something noble — had rather have their sol- 
diers killed than not, so that they can get more money 
from the English. I am sure King George must despise 
them, even while he is dealing with them. 

Uncle savs our two greatest dangers lie — in a weak 
government, and in our Continental money. In January, 
February and this last March, two millions and a half 
have been issued, and it is rumored that noAV in April six 
millions more will be sent out, and this money is worth 
nothing, or almost nothing, and the credit of the country 
is being ruined. Uncle says that as a consequence of 
this worthless money, prices will run up enormously high, 
and recklessness, extravagance and bad faith will be the 
result. Then, as to our weak government, the States do 
not send their best men to Congress; indeed, they do not 
insist upon their coming at all, and we learn that this 
winter there have been only from nine to seventeen mem- 
bers in Congress ; and these are supposed to represent 
the government of thirteen great colonies ! The conse- 
quence is, that the different colonies govern themselves, 
call out armies, manage their affairs in their own way, 
and there is a lack of united action. Besides, the men 
who are in Congress are timid and irresolute ; if there is 
one thing that I hate it is changing one's mind. All our 
best men, who made Congress worth something once, are 
now scattered abroad. Washington is with the army, 
Franklin and Deane are in France, and John Adams is 
ordered there : Jay has gone to Spain, Thomas Jefferson 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 327 

would have been in France but for illness, and is now at 
home ; Rutledge is defending South Carolina. Still there 
are a few of our good statesmen left in the Government, 
and uncle says they are doing wonders, all things consid- 
ered. Uncle says it is very easy for people in a house 
ashore to look out at the sea in a tempest, and wonder 
why the helmsman of some staggering, mastless bark does 
thus and so, and why he does not run her safely into port. 
We would know better what the difficulties were if we 
stood in the helmsman's place. When these times are 
long gone by, and independence is secured, then, uncle 
says, it will be known what a storm was this, and what 
were the rocks and dangers on every hand, and how sorely 
bestead the ship was ; how maimed and dismantled ; how 
fearful were the leaks she sprung, and how matchless was 
that seamanship that brought us safely through. Uncle 
never despairs. 

April, 23, 1778. 
I was writing just here of a ship, and since then wc 
have been interested in ships. My uncle Matthew Tem- 
ple got pass in here this week, and is now gone again. 
His friend, Matthew- Ridley, of Baltimore, is at Xantes, in 
commission business ; and Judith concluded that, as it had 
been a long time since we had any good clothes, and it 
might be longer ere we should again have opportunity to 
get any, we should give an order to Uncle Matthew that 
he might get transmitted to Nantes for us, and we would 
have a parcel sent from France ; good luck if ever it gets 
here. Bessie heard of the plan, and begged that she 
might send \vitli us; so Judith gave her leave, and Annie 



328 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 

Scafortli sent also. Our parcels are to come, for greater 
safety, by three ships. Bessie sent for a pink silk negligee; 
shoes, feathers and ribbons to match; white silk gauze, 
six pair silk hose, as many pair kid gloves, five yards blue 
velvet, and three pair white embroidered slippers. The 
others of us were more moderate. Annie Seaforth ordered 
a maize-colored satin petticoat and a lace scarf and an 
embroidered fan. Judith is to have a bonnet and a satin 
cloak. I do hope the parcels will come safely ; it will ha 
such a treat to see new thino;s. 

Bessie is very busy making arrangements to be married. 
She has set the day for the eighth of jNIay. She is at Mis- 
tress Seaforth's much of the time. The other day she sent 
for me to come there and help her make a tucker, as she 
was pleased to say that I was handy at such things. Judith 
bid me go ; so I put on my Avork-pocket and went. When 
Bessie finally laid me out the pattern and the material I 
perceived that it was some of my dear grandmother's old 
lace; very rich and beautiful it is, and I recalled so clearly 
how she used to wear it, and how well it became her when 
she put it on upon state occasions. I also remembered 
what a wise guardian she had been to my childhood, what 
a devoted wife to my grandfather, what a pattern of in- 
dustry, patriotism, piety and steadfast friendship; also 
what a truthful, loyal, straight-speaking soul was hers. 
And thinking of these things I wept. Bessie noticed my 
tears, and cried out, "Why, how now, child? Are you 
vexed that you did not have that good lace?" 

I replied indignantly that I did not desire the lace. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 329 

She said: "Why, surely, you can not be crying over your 
grandmother after all these years ! " 

" Indeed I am/' I sobbed. 

" Oh, how strange to remember so long ! " shrieked 
Bessie. "Why, I would /or^rf myself in two years' time." 

Now I am ashamed to record it, but this amazing dec- 
laration of Bessie's set me from crying into a fit of laugh- 
ter. Bessie thought she had quite cheered me up. I 
made the tucker as well as I could, and Bessie put it on. 
She had on a rose-colored gown over a drab petticoat, and 
truly the tucker became her well, toning her high color, 
and softening the outlines of her face, and serving the 
part that the moss does to the rosebud. AVe all compli- 
mented her on her appearance, and for herself, she was 
quite satisfied with it. Captain Banks came in the after- 
noon and asked Bessie to go for a walk with him. They 
wanted Annie Seaforth and me to go with them, and obe- 
dient to a siffn from Mistress Seaforth we went. She does 
not like Bessie's going by herself as she does. As we 
went up Market Street we saw General Howe coolly riding 
along in INIary Pemberton's coach, drawn by Mary Pem- 
berton's horses. As soon as he came to the city he seized 
these for his own use, and since then Dame Pembertou 
has gone on foot. Just after the General passed we met 
an old, long-bearded man, carrying fruit baskets. As my 
eye fell on him it flashed upon me that I had seen him 
somewhere. I seemed to have a sudden half recognition 
of him. 

Bessie cried out: "There is the fruit-seller who goes so 
often to General Howe." 



330 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Some half-defined idea moved me to say, " Let u.s buy 
some fruit." 

''Oil, yes/' said Bessie, "pray do, it will be so amusing 
to buy of tlic old creature!" 

The man was hurrying on, as if preferring not to sell, 
but Captain Banks, to oblige us, called him to stop and 
let the ladies have a taste of his wares. He therefore 
stopped, and while Captain Banks was trading with him, 
I ventured to carp a little at the fruit and prices, in order 
to have a delay, that I might study the merchant's face. 
The beard, the wig, various other alterations had made 
strange work with the countenance, but at last I knew 
mv man. Only one thing that saved me from openly chal- 
lenging my old neighbor thus : " Why here, and disguised, 
Mr. Brown?" The thing that saved me was this — the 
reading at worship in the morning from Luke ii. My 
uncle remarked to us on the verse, " But Mary kept all 
these things and pondered them in her heart": " jSIary is 
an example of wise reticence; some people speak out 
without consideration the instant they see any thing- 
strange or wonderful ; some make public talk of their 
private aifairs — he loses nothing who ponders events in 
Lis heart before speaking concerning them." So I took 
the mother of the Lord for an examjde of prudence in 
speech, and only told my uncle privately of my discovery 
of INIr. Brown. He had me write a careful description 
of his appearance and give it to him, and he bid me say 
nothing of what I had seen. 

April 25, 1778. 

Yesterday three of the prisoners whom we are now 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 331 

nursing in the attic fell very ill, and uncle feared it was a 
contagious fever. He said we girls must leave the house, 
lest we all took sick. Susannah only would go so far as 
Mistress Seaforth's, so that if uncle or Judith took sick she 
might at once be with them. Judith, however, got a pass 
through Colonel Nelson, and sent me with Hester to Ma- 
dame Logan's, to stay until called for. AVe were loath to 
leave the home friends in danger, but Mistress Seaforth's 
house was full, and uncle insisted on us coming hither. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



May 3, 1778. 
"IITE rode out to Mistress Logan's under escort of Cap- 
tain Henry Seaforth, and of Pompey, who carried a 
satchel of clothes for us. The Captain left us at the 
gate, having a review to attend ; Mistress Logan received 
us kindly, and said half in jest, " that we were welcome 
to the shelter of her roof so long as she had any." She 
told me privately that she feared she had aroused the 
hostility of General Howe. Mistress Logan has been so 
hospitable to the British officers, and has made them so 
many entertainments, that she has been regarded, gener- 
ally, as neutral, or a Tory; still, it has not been possible 
for her to give aid and information so often to Patriots, 
without being at least suspected ; and the other day she en- 
dangered her safety by a careless use of her tongue — so 
she tells me. The British government, all too late, have 
passed "Conciliatory Bills" — bills which, passed five 



332 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

years ago, might have mollified the Colonies, but now 
come too late to heal the division that evil counsel has 
made. Governor Tryon, of New York, has published 
copies of these bills, also of a resolution, to offer pardon 
to all insurgents. Governor Tryon had the impudence to 
send copies of his bills to General Washington at Valley 
Forgo, asking him to distribute them among the soldiers ! 
The General did so, knowino; that nothino- but rccofrnition 
of American Independence would satisfy the Patriots, 
and that these bills, in their blind ignoring of that, and 
the terrible price of blood already paid toward obtaining 
it, would only make his soldiers 'more resolute to defend 
their cause. One of these bills, by some means, got to 
" Logan House," and aroused Mistress Logan's sarcasm, 
and she turned it into ridicule before some English of- 
ficers, who were calling upon her. She says that not an 
officer has been near her house since, and that she has had 
hints that General Howe has heard of what she said, and 
is angry. 

Mistress Logan tells one that these bills have done a 
world of harm to the king's cause. Not only have they 
awakened the contempt of the Patriot, but they have filled 
the Royalists, and the British army, with indignation, be- 
cause they show such a falling off in the tone hitherto 
used toward the " rebels," and indicate such weakness and 
irresolution in the king's government. The Royalists 
have been fighting, dying, suffering, exiled, to maintain 
rights which the king could, but would not concede at 
first, but now, humbly offers, when it is too late. We 
hear that there is great displeasure in England toward 



ONE IIUSDEED YEARS AGO. 333 

General Howe. They say that he is insolent and half- 
hearted ; that he throws away all his advantages, and has 
lost a winter ; and that he might have saved Burgoyne 
if he had tried to do so. Word is, that he is to be re- 
called; bnt his officers and men are very fond of him, 
and will be loath to have him go. The weather was 
most lovely when we went to Mistress Logan's. The 
trees were coming into leaf; the birds in her beantifnl 
shrubbery were busy; the myrtle, violets, daffodils, and 
primroses were in bloom ; the little brook sang on its 
way ; the bees had begun to work, and all the fields Avere 
green. Hester, Miss Logan, and I could hardly keep in 
doors, and we wandered in the garden all the day after 
our arrival. Mistress Logan would not suffer us to go 
into the fields, there are so many strangers lurking about. 

The second day of our stay had nearly been our last. 
"We were preserved from a great trouble entirely by Mis- 
tress Logan's presence of mind. jSIy Cousin Judith 
often talks to us about the worth and beauty of this 
presence of mind, and condemns that frantic excitement 
that can never do the right thing: at the riirht time. Mis- 
tress Logan's example will doubtless avail to me and 
Hester, as much as a thousand disquisitions on the sub- 
ject. 

About noon, as we ate our dinner, we were startled by 
a loud rapping on the front door. Mistress Logan her- 
self answered the summons, and there were two British 
soldiers. These men told her gruffly that they had been 
sent by General Howe to burn Logan House. Mistress 
Logan endeavored to argue the matter, or to get them to 



334 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 

delay while she sent a petition into the city; but they told 
her plranly that the right or wrong of the affair was none 
of their business ; that all their duty was to obey orders, 
and to delay would be as much as their lives were worth, 
for the General had sworn that the house was a nest of 
rebels, and should be in ashes by night. The soldiers 
were quite sober and in deep earnest. They warned Mis- 
tress Logan to make no delay, but to set herself at once 
to save what few valuables she could get out of the 
place. Fifteen minutes was the utmost that they could 
give her, and this short space they should spend in the 
barn preparing combustibles. 

By this time the whole household had gathered in the 
square entrance hall behind Mistress Logan, and the 
maids were shrieking and wringing their hands, and Miss 
Logan was weeping. The men turned off to the barn, 
and Mistress Logan cried to us all to rush through the 
house and gather the silver, linen, and best things in 
sheets or baskets, and carry them to the cellar. I com- 
prehended at once what she designed — we should carry 
down household stuff as long as we might, and then, 
while the house was burning above, we could be below 
getting these things into the subterranean passage, where 
they would be quite safe. Away we flew. Hester, and 
Miss Logan, and one of the upper maids worked with 
much dispatch and judgment, and I helped them, but was 
stopped once or twice to call the other servants to their 
senses. The youngest servant went to flinging china 
and earthenware into the cellar, covering thereby the 
steps with broken bits, to the ruin of the crockery and our 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 335 

detriment in coming down ; the cook flew after iron pots 
to carry them off, as if the fire would seize first on grid- 
irons and saucepans ; and the gardener began tugging with 
all his miglit at sideboards, too huge to enter the cellar 
way, and at great stationary mirrors, built in between the 
windows. 

I wished to help the maid put the china expeditiously 
in the great laundry baskets, bade the cook tie w^ the 
books in table-cloths, so that she could carry them below 
speedily, and persuaded the gardener to hurry the elegant 
parlor chairs into the cellar and tear up the carpets, and 
let the sideboard and mirrors be. Mistress Logan had 
flung open the parlor windows, and was pulling down the 
silk and lace draperies, gathering up ornaments and mak- 
ing the most of her time, while she kept her eyes on the 
road. Ten minutes had passed when an officer galloped 
up to the front gate. Mistress Logan went out to meet 
him — not rushing, screaming, and praying, but calmly, as 
if nothing were wrong, and waited for him to speak first. 
AVell for her that she was so wise. It was Captain Banks, 
a little the worse for wine, out afler deserters. He bawled 
out : 

" Mistress Logan, are any of our confounded runaways 
hiding about here? By Saint George, they think the 
king's service is not good enough for them, and they run 
off by dozens!" 

"Yes," said Mistress Logan, calm and decisive, "you 

will now find two meddling about in my barn; pray, be 

quick, or the rascals will get the advantage of you ! " 

I had heard this, as I tied up Mii^tress Logan's silk 
22 



336 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

hangings, and I recognized Captain Banks. So as lie 
spurred off to the barn by the road I flew there by the 
shorter way across the yard, that I might, perhaps, say or 
do something for my friend's help. Coming up to the 
small barn door at the side, I beheld the tipsy captain 
dash up to the great open door, where the sunsJiine was 
falling brightly, and just within which the two soldiers 
were preparing barrels, filled with straw and fine shavings, 
wherewith to fire the house — several rooms at once. The 
captain, full of his errand, and assured by Mistress Lo- 
gan that these were deserters, bellowed out: 

"Ha, sirrahs ! you beastly thieves, I've caught you! 
Back to the city ; you did n't get far this time. Out with 
you ! " 

"By your leave, captain," said the men, saluting, "we 
were sent by General Howe to burn this house." 

"None of your lies," roared the captain. "Fall in line 
and trot into town at the top of your speed." 

Perceiving how the affair was likely to go, and being in 
a good position for observing unseen, I continued to peep 
in at the door. The other soldier said : 

" We must execute our order, captain." 

"I'll execute you," yelled the captain in a fury, whip- 
ping out his sword, " if you do n't toddle into town in two 
minutes." 

The men, alarmed, turned from their work, saying: 

" What are we to do ? " 

" Do as I tell you ! " shouted the valorous captain. 

"The general's explicit orders — " 

"You have my orders!" cried the captain, frantic; 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 337 

" and, zounds, if you do n't heed 'em, you'll not live to 
heed others." 

"You arc our superior/' said one of the men; "we must 
obey but the general." 

" I'll attend to the general, and blast me if I do n't 
attend to you too," shrieked Captain Banks in a fury, 
lunging at the soldiers with his sword, and so nearly 
fallino; headlong; from his horse. 

The men sprang aside, and saw it best to start for the 
city ; they therefore set out along the road from the 
barn at a keen pace, the captain following them and mak- 
ing flourishes and pokes at them with his sword, that 
might have harmed them had he not been too tipsy. One 
of the men thus runnins; bethous'ht himself of the Q-en- 
eral's written order, which he had in his pocket; therefore 
as he went he jerked it forth, and turning, waved it at 
the captain, for him to take and read. The captain, how- 
ever, regarded this as a fresh insult, and clipped so dex- 
terously at the paper with his sword that he sliced it in 
two, and it was a mere accident that he did not cut off 
the man's hand. Thus the captor and the captured 
rushed along past our saved house, and my mind, relieved 
of instant fear for that, reverted to the men ; and anxious 
lest the captain might slay or cut down one of them, I 
flew to the garret and looked out from the roof, meaning 
to speed with the gardener to the rescue, if one were left 
by the wayside. However, I beheld the zeal of the cap- 
tain moderate when he was no more opposed, and as he 
had some ado to keep his seat, he sheathed his sword and 
fell from running to trotting, and then to a reasonable 



338 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

pace, so my fears for the men abated before they were 
out of sight; therefore I came clown, and picking up the 
two halves of the general's order, I committed them to 
the kitchen fire. 

Mistress Logan had kept on with her work of remov- 
ing her goods, and, expecting that the general would 
promptly send men to finish the interrupted work, she 
continued to dismantle her house, until nearly every thing 
was conveyed to the cellar. Anxious not to open the 
passage, except as a last resort, she left the goods in the 
cellar, which was dry and airy, and herself hid the silver, 
money, and jewelry in the secret way. The thirtieth came 
without any further disturbance, and that day Henry 
Seaforth rode out to bring Hester and me home. He told 
us that the fever had turned out other than my uncle had 
feared, and that it was safe for us to return. He also 
bade Mistress Logan restore her house to order and 
fear nothing, for the general's wrath had blown over? 
General Knyphausen, Captain Andre, Colonel Nelson and 
others, having interceded to save the property. 

As we rode home Captain Seaforth told us that Cap- 
tain Banks brought his two innocent prisoners into the 
city and locked them up, and for two days they were left 
in w^ard. Then they were called for as deserters on his 
charges, and being brought out, it was first discovered 
how the General's order had been contravened. The 
poor fellows Avere returned to their company, and a 
hearty laugh was enjoyed at Captain, or rather ISIajor, 
Banks's expense. The General was enjoying the mollify- 
ing effects of this laugh when General Knyphausen and 



ONE HUNDRED YEAES AGO. 339 

others persuaded him to spare Logan House. On promise 
of strict secrecy, lest the laughter might reach Bessie and 
mortify her, I told Hester and the captain of the scene 
in the barn and on the road ; so we were all merry as we 
rode home. 

Captain Seaforth told us that General Howe is to be 
relieved immediately, and that the officers mean to give 
him a grand entertainment before he goes; also that Cap- 
tain Andre is preparing the programme for the festivity, 
and that all the most beautiful Philadelphia ladies wdll 
be asked to take part in the affair. 

On reading this over I feel ashamed that I wrote down 
Major Banks's bad words. Two or three years ago I would 
not have done so for any thing. I am growing much 
worse I fear, in city life. 

May W, 1778. 

When we reached home we found a great stir of excite- 
ment, for General Howe's resignation having been ac- 
cepted more promptly than he had desired, he is to leave 
presently, and all the army is sorry, for he is a grand 
favorite; they are heaping up their regrets into a great 
medley, called the mischianza, to be given in his honor, 
and the officers and ladies who are to take part are agog 
W'ith expectation ; it is to come off on the 18th. 

But we had our own private excitement besides, for 
Bessie had at last fixed on the 12tli for her marriage, and 
she was to be married in Mr. Duche's church, and have her 
wedding party at Mistress Seaforth's. Bessie begged that 
Hester and I should be her brides-maids, but Uncle John 
would not allow it. He did not wish us to be taking part 



340 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

in such festivities when Charles and so many of our dear 
countrymen may be suffering or dying at that very hour. 
Besides, tlie officers who were to be groomsmen were not 
to Uncle's taste. However, we all went to the wedding. 
I had never seen an Episcopalian wedding before. The 
ceremony is very different from the simple fashion of my 
grandfather, who, in the home of the bride or in our own 
house, took the vows of both parties, prefacing and con- 
cluding wdth a prayer, and usually giving a few words of 
instruction and congratulation. 

I must say for Mr. Duche that he performed the cere- 
mony very impressively and affectionately : he was in his 
robes, and the altar and railing were dressed in flowers. 
There was also music, giving aw^ay the bride, which Mr. 
Warley did very cheerfully, the giving of the ring, the 
prayers and much more, which made a long service. 

Bessie looked very beautiful — a little paler and more 
subdued than usual, and her dress, of white satin, lace, 
and orange flowers was truly exquisite. I wonder if 
Susannah, who is much more beautiful than Bessie, could 
look more lovely when she was being married; if so, I 
think she would look just exactly like an angel, and I 
would expect to see her fly away. 

We went from the church to Mr. Seaforth's. General 
Howe had been invited, and came in for half an hour; 
he kissed the bride. The only ladies who were intro- 
duced to him were Judith and Susannah, and that because 
he especially asked it. The General is not a well-behaved 
man, in our Puritan opinions, and it did me good to see 
that his rank and power could not win from my cousins 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 341 

any courtesy which they -would not show to a j^oor, ill- 
behaved man. Colonel JSTelson introduced them when the 
General came up, and they each swept him a curtsey, 
very magnificent indeed, and then stood stately and cold, 
with just the very least little bow to his comj)liments. 
He invited Judith to lead a dance with him, and she 
replied : 

" Excuse me. General, we are Puritans, and do not 
dance. We are only at this wedding because the bride 
is in a manner related to our family." 

" Ell," said the General, " not dance ! How singular. 
Would you not dance with Captain Seaforth, Miss Tem- 
ple ? " 

" He knows my opinions, and does not ask me," said 
Judith. 4 

"And never dance ? " he continued, " why, what will 
you do when the Captain takes you to England, and you 
are presented, and shine at court?" 

" The only court where I expect to be presented," said 
Judith, serenely, " will be that of General Washington ; 
and in a republican court w^e can all obey the dictates 
of our own reason." 

General Howe bit his lip, shrugged his shoulders, and 
said : 

" You republican women are as persistent as the men." 

"We are all of one stock, sir," said Judith, and he 
passed on. 

We left the party soon after supper. Many of the 
officers were taking too much wine. Major Banks and 
Mr. Warley were especially prominent in over-indulging. 



342 PATRIOT A^'D TORY: 

Bessie did not seem to mind it; she danced twice ^vitli 
the Major, and after that with every body. We have 
heard that they danced until the sun was well up. I 
fancy Mistress Seaforth and Annie were glad when it 
was all over. 

Major Banks had arranged a very handsome suite of 
rooms for himself and Bessie. They gave a wine-supper 
there the second day after the wedding, and have card- 
parties every night. Bessie says it is just the style of 
life that she likes. She said, a few days after her mar- 
riage, that Annie Seaforth and we girls must come and 
see her often. We were silent, but Mistress Seaforth 
said, plainly: 

" No, Bessie ; you will be obliged to do all the visit- 
ing, for the persons they would meet at your house are 
not suitable company for young maidens. I am sorry 
you do not take my advice about your associates and en- 
tertainments." 

Bessie laughed, saying : 

"But you also bade me please my husband, and these 
are the companions the Major likes." 

I had forgotten to set down a talk I had with Bessie 
two days before she was married. She told me she had 
had a letter from Mr. Bowdoin, and had answered it. I 
said : 

"Then, Bessie, I suppose you told him that you had 
changed your mind, and were about to marry Major 
Banks?" 

"No, I did not," said she. "I never told him a word 
of it." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 343 

"What did you write to him for, then?" I asked, 
amazed. 

"Because he begged me to, and it was such fun to 
smugo-le a letter to and from a rebel." 

"Oh, Bessie!" I cried, "you were wicked not to tell 
him." 

"Wicked," says she, tossing her head; "'tis wicked to 
hurt one's feelings, and do you think I would hurt 
his, when he is moiling away in that cold camp, eating 
pork and beans ? Let him have what consolation he 
can." 

"And does he trust you yet after all your neglect?" 

"He is too fond of me to accuse me of neglect. He 
thinks my father over-influences me. As for himself, he 
gives me good advice and calls me his dear, charming 
Bessie, and hopes for better times. I wish he had been 
a Major in the British army instead of a parson. I am 
sure Major Banks never calls me half as nice names" — 
and she burst out crying. Oh, poor, wicked, unhappy 
Bessie, to marry, feeling this way! and poor Mr. Bowdoin 
to trust and be deceived ! I wonder will she write to him, 
now that she is married ? If the British do go away from 
the city, as they say, and our army comes in, I shall tell 
Mr. Bowdoin of Bessie's marriage. She shall not trifle 
with him any longer. 

May 20, 1778. 

Well, the mischianza has come off", and what a stir the 
city was in about it. 'Twas of Captain Andre's arrang- 
ing, and held at the Wharton mansion, one of the most 
elegant places in the city, with lawns and flowers, trees 



344 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

and shrulibcry, and the river Aviuding in front — every thing 
to make it lovely. 

The fete was a regatta and a tournament; we had tickets 
and so had Annie Seaforth, and she and Judith and Su- 
sannah were prayed to take part in it, but both ]\Ir. Sea- 
forth and my uncle regarded this extravagant display as 
most wicked folly. Captain Andre was at our house and 
said to my uncle : 

"Surely, Mr. Temple, you will not forbid these ladies 
to enjoy so charming a festa?" 

"Captain," my uncle replied, "you forget that their 
countrymen are suffering and fighting in open field, and 
that at any hour they may be called to mourn a brother 
and lack even the poor consolation of burying his corpse." 

Mr. Seaforth was yet more open in his condemnation. 
He said that he could not understand that, either as a 
man or as a soldier, General Howe merited the applause 
about to be heaped upon him; that he thought nineteen 
thousand men could serve their king better than by imi- 
tating the absurdities of the tales of chivalry ; that, while 
the horrid realities of war were close about them, to mock 
it in a pantomime was ill-advised ; that these officers were, 
perchance, dancing on the edge of their open graves; and 
that the young women who would, dressed in extravagant 
Turkish costume, take part in such a display, were not 
Avise, prudent, modest or sensitive ; and that no daughter 
of his should so much as look at the parade. 

I saw one of the Scotch officers passing our house on 
the morning of the 18th, and some one meeting him 
said ; 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 345 

" Do you not think that Washington will seize this day 
of festivity as a favorable opportunity for attack?" 

He replied : 

^' If Mr. Washington possesses half the wisdom and 
sound policy that I have ever given him credit for, he will 
by no means meddle with us at such a time. The ex- 
cesses of this day are, to him, equivalent to a victory." 

No expense was spared for this entertainment; rooms 
were painted and decorated, refreshments were most mag- 
nificent, dresses were in the height of splendor, and orna- 
ments and lights for the apartments and pavilions w^ere 
begged, borrowed or faJcen from almost every house ; — for 
instance, the ball-room had eighty-five mirrors and thirty- 
four branches of wax lights. At ten they had fire-works ; 
at twelve supper, and then they danced until four in the 
morning; but doubtless the most absurd folly was in the 
day, when seven 'Knights of the Burning Mountain^ and 
seven 'KnigJds of the Blended Rose' contended on horse- 
back for the favor of fourteen beauties, dressed as Turk- 
ish princesses, and sitting in fair view of all beholders. 
Lord Howe and Sir William, Sir Henry Clinton, their 
suites, many ladies. General Knyphausen and three other 
English Generals were present; the noise of the perform- 
ance filled the city. 

We kept our house closed, as also Mr. Seaforth ; here 
we were of perfect accord. At morning worship my uncle 
read the account of Belshazzar's feast. 

During the evening it seemed as if the city were about 
to be taken from its riotous possessors, for a company of 
patriots came up to the abatis with kettles of combusti- 



346 PATRIOT AyD TORY: 

bles and fired the whole line. The guard along; the abatis 
is strong and pursued the attacking party, who withdrew 
in safety. The long alarm-roll was beaten, but the ladies 
in the ball-room knew nothing of the attack which dis- 
turbed the city. 

The day after the miscJdanza General Howe withdrew 
to New York, whence he is to sail for England on the 
first ship. Sir Henry Clinton took command here on the 
11th. He is not very popular. 

Preparations for evacuating the city are now going on. 

June 16, 1778. 

There has been little cjuiet anywhere around us of late. 
Sir Henry Clinton was ordered to evacuate Philadelphia, 
and the breaking up of quarters here occasioned great 
turmoil. There was a packing up of effects, selling goods 
and stores at auction, lading of transports with hay and 
horses, shipping of cannon, arms, and ammunition. Xot 
only this, but a great number of our citizens were wild 
with excitement and terror. They were those who had 
been Patriots, and had turned Tories when the British 
came, or who had taken a virulent part against their 
patriot fellow-citizens in denouncing them and helping 
to rob them. They now feared that they would suffer 
in their turn. These people crowded the ships to go to 
England or New York to the number of three thousand, 
who took with them so much of their effects as they could 
obtain transportation for. Their terrors were groundless, 
but a guilty conscience does not pause to reason. 

On the contrary, how peaceful and assured is a good 
conscience — as Mr. Seaforth's. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 347 

Major Banks said to him : 

"Are you to leave the city, sir?" 

"Should such a man as I flee?" replied Mr. Seaforth, 
who is apt in quoting Scripture, though Scripture was 
wasted on Major Banks; "I have wronged no man, ac- 
cused no man; here is my home, here I expect always 
to live." Then ho added, laughing, "I shall abide un- 
der the palladium of my friend Temple's protection, as 
he has lately been abiding under mine." 

Mr. Duche is of those who are flying to Europe. Mrs. 
Seaforth is very sorry to part with him, she is also very 
grieved that she must now lose Henry. When he goes 
from her will he ever come back? Bessie is delighted 
to go to New York ; she says it is nicer than Philadel- 
phia. I fancy she finds us some restraint upon her; per- 
haps, too, she is ashamed that we know of Major Banks's 
drinking and gambling. 

Col. Xelson is very sad at leaving Philadelphia; he 
hoped much from the arrival of the Peace Commission- 
ers, who are — Frederick Howard, Earl of Carlisle; Wil- 
liam Eden, and George Johnstone. They arrived on the 
6th of June, and were very indignant when they found 
that the order to evacuate Philadelphia had been con- 
cealed from them. AYe know why commissions are now 
sent. France has made an alliance Avith us; the news 
got to Congress on the 2d of May, and on May 6th they 
had a grand rejoicing because of the treaty, at A'^allcy 
Forge. We hear that the men had new clothes, abun- 
dant rations, a grand parade, fire-works, and at the head of 
each brigade the chaplains offered solemn thanksgiving 



348 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 

for this new aid given America in her extremity. The 
neAvs was long in getting to us here in the city, but none the 
less welcome when it did come ; the treaty was concluded 
on February Gth; this we owe doubtless to Dr. Franklin, 
and uncle says, " See here the influence of the scholarly 
and temperate man, hale and venerable in his old age, 
commanding universal respect, wise by study, observation, 
and experience, able to nse in the service of his country 
the fruits of a long life.'' 

"VVe get a little more news now; in the stir of depart- 
ure people creep in and out of the city more easily. We 
learn that the Marquis La Fayette w^as almost captured 
on the 19th of May. Sir Henry Clinton had nearly sur- 
rounded him, when, by skillful management, he got away 
from White Marsh in safety. They tell us also that 
General Lee has been exchanged for General Prescott, 
and that Colonel Ethan Allen, after his long captivity in 
England, has been exchanged for a British colonel, and 
sent home. He went to Valley Forge to visit Washing- 
ton. I am glad the sturdy old soldier is back; my 
grandfather would have been pleased to hear that. 

The Tories welcomed the Commissioners heartily, 
trusting that they would end this "vveary war; the Patriots, 
however, feel that these envoys, like the conciliatory 
bills, come too late; beside, they are not the right men. 

Mr. Seaforth had the Commissioners to tea at his 
house, and invited my uncle to meet them. He says 
that Lord Carlisle is a young man of fashion, flippant, 
amiable, and indolent, the last man in the world to con- 
vince or captivate our sturdy yeomen, our scholarly 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 349 

Schuyler, our brilliant Jefferson and Henry, learned Witli- 
erspoon, far-seeing Washington, matter-of-fact Adamses. 
Mr. Eden is very bitter against the Americans, and calls 
them rebels, traitors, louts, who have been too gingerly 
handled. This is unlikely to commend him to our peo- 
ple — to enthusiastic Samuel Adams, or veteran Greene, 
or ardent Rutledge. Mr. Johnstone is the strongest of 
the party; he knows the Pennsylvanians, has stood our 
friend in England, and will be regarded with respect 
here, even though his mission can not avail any thing. 

Mr. Seaforth told the Commissioners that a deal liad 
been done to embitter the Colonies, and that the conduct 
of Cunningham, Provost Marshal here, toward prisoners, 
had been enough to enrage a whole nation, and that in 
his view the first step toward a reconciliation would be 
to hang Cunningham before the two armies. He said 
that he spoke this as a warm royalist, intending to 
stand by his king to the last dollar and last drop of 
blood. 

Our army of nineteen thousand conquerors of this one 
poor city, has gone off i^iecemeal. Five thousand went 
to attack the French in the "West Indies; three thousand 
went to seize Florida ; the cavalry went to Xcw York, 
and then ten thousand remained here with General 
Clinton. 

On the evening of June 17th Colonel Nelson came in 
looking very mournful, and told us he had come for his 
last visit for the present, as the army would depart next 
day. He and Susannah have been learning a song by 
Waller — " Go, Lovely Rose ; " they sang it together. 



350 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

Henry Seaforth also was to leave next day, and he and 
Judith went out in the moonlight for a walk in the gar- 
den. When it was time to say farewell — as Judith and 
Henry had not yet made their appearance — Colonel Nel- 
son begged my uncle to bid Judith adieu for him. He 
shook hands with me, and with my uncle; then he turned 
to Susannah. She made a grand effort to bid him good- 
bye with composure ; but, as his voice and hand trembled, 
she suddenly turned away, laid her arms on the table, 
bent her head upon them, and burst into tears. The Colo- 
nel at once dropped on his knees beside her and begged 
her to change her resolution and promise to be his wife. 
Susannah Avith difficulty controlled her feelings, and, lift- 
ing her head, responded that she had chosen the part 
which had seemed right to her, and could not alter her 
determination. 

" If I am living when peace is declared," said the Colo- 
nel, " I Avill at once come to you to ask for the promise 
which you now refuse. But when I come then, shall I 
find that some one of your compatriots, happier than I, 
has now your hand?" 

" No," said Susannah ; " you will find me just as I am 
now." 

He laid in her hand a little box, and then, kissing her 
on her bowed head, he left the room. Susannah that 
night showed me what was in the box — a very excellent 
miniature on ivory, of himself, and a ring. She put the 
ring in a case with some relics of her mother, but I can 
not tell what she did with the picture : I have not seen it 
since. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 351 

Uncle John gave Susannah a little good advice next 
day: 

" Youth, my daughter, is volatile, and camps do not en- 
courage steady habits. I do not doubt that, now. Colonel 
Nelson is sincere ; also, I know that you are worthy of 
any man's utmost fealty. But men change ; and it is dan- 
gerous to set all our hope and faith on any thing beneath 
the skies." 

" He WILL NQT change, father," said Susannah, quietly ; 
then, in a firmer tone : " and if he did, why, it would only 
show that the man I cared for was not this Colonel but 
an ideal ; and I would keep the ideal and let the changeful 
real go." 

I said, merrily : 

" Oh, Susannah, do you know that on the day when the 
Colonel came here first — to turn us out of our quarters and 
send us to the attic, you know — he said that he wished he 
had had his good clothes on, so that he would have looked 
better to your eyes?" 

" He always looks well enough," said Susannah. 

" You seemed to think him frightful that day," said I, 
" for you carefully kept the length of the room between 
you two." 

" It was not the man, but the uniform, that frightened 
me," said Susannah. 

"And it was the uniform, not the man, that was going 
to send us to the attic ! " cried Hester. 

" Have done, children," cried my uncle. " The Colonel 

has paid for his temerity — he came to conquer and was 

conquered." 
23 



352 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

" May tliat be a type of aftairs between England and 
America," exclaimed Hester. 

"As Susannah was victorious by beauty, so America 
will be by the justice of her claims," said I. 

" Nonsense," said Uncle John. " You have driven 
that poor child from the room by your tormenting 
remarks." 

Well, they are gone. The invaders whom the autumn 
saw enter our town have departed with the early summer. 
I do not know what advantage they gained by coming 
here, only to have a pleasant place to spend the winter. 
Judith has been happy — in one way at least; and now 
that Henry has left us there is in her eyes that look of 
patience and apprehension. But that dear little Tory, 
Annie Seaforth, in spite of her Royalist principles, looks 
happier than she has all winter, for we are expecting 
Charles every day. 

What a queer overturning tyrant this love is. I am 
glad that I am not in love with any body — and I 
wouldn't have any one fall in love with me for the 
world ! 

General Washington has sent General Arnold, one of 
our bravest officers, to take command of the city. This 
General is lame from a wound in the leg received in the 
fight at Stillwater last' autumn. We were all anxious to 
see so famous a man. He is very splendid in his dress 
and appearance, and we girls were quite enthusiastic 
about him until we asked Uncle John to join our praises, 
when he said : 

" Undoubtedly he is a great patriot, and I love him for 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



353 



his cause ; but he has the face of a man bohl, haughty, 

selfish, unscrupulous; and his history has not been free 

from blots of harshness 

and dishonesty. As a 

man I believe I had 

rather General Howe any 

day." 

How very odd of un- 
cle. He is surely mis- 
taken this time. Gen- 
eral Burgoyne is not to 
be allowed to go home 
with his army until the 
British Govern m e n t 
ratify the terms of surrender. Congress thinks he means 
to try and deceive us. 




CHAPTER XIY. 

July 24, 1778. 
T WAS so ignorant of militaiy affairs as to suppose that 
-^ when General Clinton stole out of our city between 
two days, we should see presently General Washington 
riding in in state, followed by all his army in holiday 
trim. My uncle laughed at the fancy. He says our Gen- 
eral has no time for mock heroics or May-day parade; 
what engages him is work. So, indeed, it seems that it 
is; for while he sent General Arnold with a few troops to 
occupy the city, himself remained to get a battle with Sir 



354 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

llemy Clinton, if lie might; but Clinton was too wary. 
All he desired was to get off safely, and to cover the re- 
treat of General Knyphausen with the baggage. How- 
ever, there was a battle at Monmouth on the 28th of June, 
and every one says that it might have been a glorious 
victory, except for the mistakes — or worse, evil intents — 
of General Lee, whom I heartily Avish had been kept a 
prisoner and not been sent back to bother us. The day 
of the battle of Monmouth was very hot, and many men on 
both sides died of sunstroke. In the night General Clin- 
ton quietly withdrew. He is now safe in New York. It 
is said that during his retreat through the Jerseys, he lost 
two thousand men by sun, wounds, and especially deser- 
tion. The Hessians desert whenever they get a chance; 
and I do not wonder at it, for they know that their king 
wants them killed, so that he can get the pay for them; 
and that when they are crippled, or on parole, or sick 
leave, he will not let them come hom£, lest they tell 
things that will hinder his hiring out any more men for 
the war. As they are thus prevented ever seeing their 
families more, I suppose they desert, hoping to have 
health and homes and a future in this country. 

The commissioners sent to treat with the colonies, o.s 
colonies, have entirely failed to convince any one. Mr. 
Morris showed my Uncle John a letter which he had 
from Mr. Johnstone, which was an evident but craftily- 
worded attempt to bribe General "Washington, General 
Reed, and a few others — as if such men could be bribed! 
General Reed has said some w^rong things, and he has 
done some weak and timid things, but in the eyes of the 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 355 

country he has atoned for all these in the reply he made 
to an offer of bribe from Johnstone : " I am not worth 
purchasing, but such as I am, the King of Great Britain 
is not rich enough to do it," I am sure all honest-hearted 
Englishmen must respect such patriotism as that, even in 
an enemy. 

On the eighth of this month a French fleet, sent to help 
us in our operations along the coast, and to harass the 
British shipping, anchored at the mouth of the Delaware. 
What a pity that the weather had detained them so long 
on their voyage, else they might have caught Admiral 
Howie's fleet here in the river! 

In this city we think we have seen something of the 
war ; and I, who saw the struggle open in Massachusetts, 
am apt to relate the wonders of my experience to my 
young friends. But how little do we know of war's cruel- 
ties and misfortunes in comparison with those M'ho are on 
the frontier, where the Indians have been aroused up to 
the deeds of violence. "VYe have just heard news that 
has stirred all our hearts; the British and Indians have 
descended on the beautiful Wyoming Valley, and have 
massacred men, women, and children. Most of the able- 
bodied men were in the army ; four or five of these re- 
turned to defend their families, but the militia at Forty 
Fort were old men or boys, and these, under Colonel Zebu- 
Ion Butler, after a brave fight were routed, and almost all 
of them butchered. Women, children, invalids, and aged 
men fled, without food or horses by night, pursued by 
the yelling Indians. Some died of fatigue and hunger on 
the road. Oh, the poor women and little ones, whose 



356 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

husbands, fathers, and brothers were killed ! — homeless, 
hungry, and beggared, flying through the terrible woods ! 
We all feel so badly for them, that we can hardly eat or 
sleep for thinking of those whom Ave would gladly helj), 
but who are past our helping, 

I do not see why this war should go on any longer. All 
the continental nations think we have virtually gained 
our independence. General Howe said when he left, that 
all the disposable forces of Britain could not conquer 
America. Lord Carlisle says: "Things go ill here, and 
will never go better for us." Sir Henry Clinton declares 
that "he is not strong enough to enforce the King's 
authority." All the British plan now is, to lay waste the 
country within reach of their armies. What benefit will 
that be, if we succeed in maintaining a sovereign right to 
the land ? We hear that in England the Commons are 
tired of the war, and want their armies home. They say 
the sooner peace is made the better. Here,- my uncle says, 
is the disastrous power of the King. His influence, thrown 
against that of the people, can drag the nation into a 
course from which their better sense revolts. My great- 
grandfather would have said that this is because kings 
do not rule in God-fearing and man-loving, and do not 
make Christ, the King of kings, their pattern. 

July. 30, 177S. 

The breaking up of the army at Valley Forge, and its 
scattering for summer operations, has widely separated our 
soldier friends. We can not feel too thankful that Charles 
is among those who have b^ren detailed to occupy Phila- 
delphia. His company arrived so much later than the 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



357 




' The beautil'ul \'alky of Wyumiiii, 



358 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

major part of the regiments sent hither, that we feared 
they had been ordered elsewhere. Charles was at the 
battle of ISIonmouth, and escaped without a scratch. 
Henry Seaforth's company was not then engaged, as it 
was covering closely the movements of Knyphausen. 

Charles came home on the evening of the twelfth. 
Annie Seaforth had been visiting us, and Hester had 
just called Peter to attend her home. It was after night- 
fall, and our front door was open. As Annie was going 
ovit, she turned to speak to me. While she was drawing 
her shawl over her shoulders, and still kept walking back- 
ward, so it happened that she walked exactly into Charles's 
arms, as he came into the door. She was so surprised and 
delighted to find Charles back, after his long, anxious 
absence, that she threw her arms about his neck, and 
kissed him several tyiies; then, shame-faced at this exhibi- 
tion of her feelings, she ran and hid behind Judith, while 
the rest of us welcomed with enthusiasm our returned 
hero. My uncle said: "Come away, Annie; do not be 
ashamed at having given Charles a kind welcome. I am 
sure Judith kissed Henry when he came." 

"Oh, but it is different to kiss Henry," said Annie, 
simply. 

" Yes, for you," said Hester ; and we all laughed. Annie 
forgot to go home, and we forgot to send word to Mr. 
Seaforth, and when it became late — about ten o'clock — he 
came over to see what was the matter; then he ran to 
bring Mistress Seaforth, and we all talked and enjoyed 
our reunion until midnight. 

General Putnam, with two brigades, has been stationed 



ONE H UNDRED YEA RS AGO. 



359 



near West Point — the possession of the forts and passes 
of the Hudson Highlands being a main object of the 
enemy. In the companies who have thus gone near West 
Point are Robert Shirtliffe and Mr. Reid. Thomas Otis, 
and Isaiah Hooper, 
and Mr, Bowdoin 
are with the regi- 
ments who are gone 
to that most danger- 
ous fiekl, continually 
ravaged by Indians, 
and filled with the 
terrors of Brandt, the 
Mohawk and Scho- 
harie Valleys. Jo- 
seph Dana and Han- 
nah are with Wayne's 
army in the Jerseys. 
General Washington brandt. 

is at White Plains, watching for the first movement of 
Sir Henry Clinton ; and the French fleet and some of 
our forces under Greene and Lafayette are now endeavor- 
ing to regain possession of Rhode Island. If this can 
be accomplished, the British will be restricted to New 
York and the Southern coast ; and my uncle says that if 
Sir Henry Clinton can be beaten in New York, the South- 
ern States must be evacuated by the Br^ish. 

Mr. Reid, Thomas Otis, and Hannah Dana were all at 
our house for the first week in July. They were in the 
city on dififerent errands. Hannah had altered much 




360 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

since I left her the 1st of March. She is very thin. She 
wears a cap like an old woman, but all her indomitable 
spirit shines in her eyes. I told her that she had better 
remain in the city for six months at least, to recruit. She 
could attend to the sick, wounded, and prisoners here ; and 
mv uncle bade her make his house her home, so long as 
she would stay. She replied that the disabled in the 
city would fare much better than those in the camp, and 
that her place was where there was most danger and suf- 
fering. She said that when she first went to the army, 
there seemed to be several hinderances in her way, but 
that these had been removed. She had thought that she 
might not be permitted to follow with the camp, or that 
she and Joseph might be separated ; but she had been 
made welcome, and her services had been well esteemed 
by officers and men ; also ^she had been always near her 
brother. She had questioned whether, though she was 
very strong, her strength would hold out for such Avork as 
she had chosen, but she had been able night and day, in 
all weathers and dangers, to attend to her duties ; then, 
she had apprehended that she might be recalled from her 
post by home affairs; her parents might be ill, or her 
mother might die ; but of these cares she had also been 
relieved, for her elder brother's widow and two children 
had gone to live at the deacon's, so there was provided 
help, society, and family for her old parents, even if she 
and Joseph nevgr returned home. " And see," continued 
Hannah, " how God has blessed me. I had been very un- 
happy, because I had means to do so little, but suddenly 
I have been provided with means, hard money, for all I 



ONE HUNDEED YEAES AGO. 361 

want/' and tlien she told me that a bachelor uncle, know- 
ing that she Avould never marry, had made her heir of 
his little hoard of money, and that she had come to the 
town to buy such things as she had long needed for her 
army work. 

" But, Hannah," I said, " your uncle meant that money 
for your support, if you are ill or grow old." 

She replied : " When I have given my country myself, 
can I not also give what money falls to me? I believe 
that for this use it was given to me." And so here is 
Hannah Dana spending her all for the Patriots. My 
uncle and Mr. Reid have helped her make her purchases. 
She got a covered wagon and a pair of strong young 
horses. The wagon is arranged to carry as many sick or 
wounded as it will hold, and there are boxes and cases 
fastened compactly in it to hold lint, bandages, knives, 
scissors, bottles of wine, fruit, jellies, biscuits, and other 
things useful to the sick ; also two cases of medicines ar- 
ranged by Doctor Binney; and strapped along the top of 
the wagon are half a dozen good blankets for covering 
the wounded in cold nights. 

When it comes winter, Judith means to send Hannah 
our famous fur cloak. I hope no one will ever capture 
Hannah's wagon. What a w^orld of good she will do with 
it. She took some of her money with her, sewn in her 
clothes, and gave the rest to my uncle, to be sent her, or 
laid out as she should order. I marveled much at Han- 
nah Dana while she was with us; she is as short of speech 
and as silent as formerly, but a new patience, and com- 
passionateness, and experience, have grown up in her 



362 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

heart, and I noticed that every one listened with careful 
attention to all that she said, and that she never wasted a 
word. I said one afternoon to Mr. Reid, as he chanced 
to be sitting near where I was at work : " Has Hannah 
Dana changed, or have I altered so much in three years? 
She appears to me a very different person from what I 
thought her long ago." Said Richard Reid : " Hannah is 
one of the noblest natures that God ever made. No one 
can know her as well as I do, without feeling for her, not 
merely respect, but reverence. To those who have seen 
her as I have, rising from the short sleep of stormy win- 
ter nights, to bend over some sick man's pillow, and com- 
fort him with words of the future he is winning for his 
children, or console him with hopes of heaven ; who have 
seen her, tender as a mother to some dying boy ; who have 
beheld her brave as a man, in the face of some fever ma- 
niac ; who have watched her on the field of battle, when 
balls were flying around her, calmly binding up wounds 
and giving water to thirsty lips ; who have heard her in 
the horrors of the night after a conflict, praying for some 
expiring patriot on the bloody earth ; who have seen her 
searching for life in the ghastly faces turned up to the sky : 
to these would Hannah Dana always appear glorified as a 
saint. Strangers see her a woman prematurely old, weath- 
er-beaten, gray, plain, abrupt. To those of us to whom she 
has come, an angel of mercy in the midst of war, she 
stands in the beauty of self-sacrifice and entire self-for- 
getting — made on the pattern of her Master, loving not 
her life unto death." 

Yes, this is Hannah, the true Hannah ; and Richard 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 363 

Reicl, who holds goodness and duty higher than anv 
thing else, ought to love and admire her. I sat by mv 
window in the moonlight thinking of it, thinking of hoM* 
much nobler Hannah's life is than mine ; and while she 
gives all to her country, J do nothing. Judith came in and 
asked me why I was crying. I hardly knew that I was crv- 
ing until she spoke, but I told her what a difference I saw 
between Hannah and myself. Judith said: "Yes; we can 
not estimate her work too highly, but remember that God 
does not call all people to do the same work. He did not 
make you for the exact kind of Avork that he did her. 
God makes in his world oak-trees and rose-trees : oaks to 
be strong and useful, rose-trees to be beautiful and sweet ; 
each speak alike His wisdom and goodness, each are best 
in fulfilling His design. There is neither rivalry nor com- 
parison, if each grows as he made it, just the best of its 
kind, oak or rose." • 

" But the world needs oaks more than roses," I said. 

" Perhaps not," she replied ; " we do not know how much 
need the world has of roses. God has made them grow from 
the Alj)ine snows to the warm valleys of Cashmere." 

I did not tell Judith that there was a thought in my 
heart that men like Richard Reid care most for useful 
oaks; and why should I feel sorry for that, if it is so? 

Hannah went off as soon as she had completed her pur- 
chases. I. think the few days here had done her good, 
for she looked brighter and stronger. We loaded her with 
all the presents that we could find, suitable for herself and 
patients. Forty men were going to join General Wayne. 
A surgeon was traveling with them, and Hannah went too. 



364 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

She drove off in her Avagoii, h)oking pleased as a queen, 
and Mr. Reid accompanied her for five miles on horse- 
back. Thomas Otis was the next to leave. The evening 
before he went we had a long talk about the old home at 
Plymouth, and the fishing on the bay, the visits to Dame 
Mercy, and all the merry old times when I think there 
could have been no trouble in the Avorld. Thomas showed 
me the lock of my hair, done up in silver paper, in his 
note-book. I am sorry now that I did not tell him that I 
thought giving hair was foolish, and that we could remem- 
ber each other without that token — I feared it would make 
him feel badly if I said that. Thomas is going to a very 
dangerous place; I wish he had been sent to West Point. 
I felt very sorry when he went away, and so did Hester; 
indeed she felt worse than I did. I suppose she must be 
more tender-hearted than I am. AYhy did she cry the 
most? Thomas Otis had not been her friend all her life, 
catching fish and lobsters with her, and putting up swings 
for her, and playing keep-house under the hayrick, or on 
the rocks by the shore. I told myself all these things, 
and it seemed quite cruel of me not to feel more heart- 
broken than I did at his going. I hate to be hard-hearted, 
I am sure. 

After Thomas Otis was gone, my uncle got a letter 
from Mr. Bowdoin, inclosing one to Bessie, and jjraying 
him to see that it reached Miss Warlcy, wlaerever she 
Avas. She is in New York, and not INIiss AVarlcy : so he 
has not heard of her marriage, poor man. How I wish I 
had told Thomas Otis, and had bidden him tell ]Mr. Bow- 
doin all about it, not sparing any thing that would arouse 



OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 365 

him from his delusion. But I quite forgot Bessie 
and her wedding while our friends were here. "What 
would Bessie feel if Mr. Bowdoin were killed by the In- 
dians ? 

Mr. Reid's business in Philadelphia was concluded, and 
he went to join General Putnam. He asked me to walk 
in the garden the evening before he left, and, my mind 
being full of Bowdoin's letter, and the one uncle had 
sent on to Bessie, I mentioned Bessie's marriage, but I 
thought it dishonorable to repeat her conduct to Mr. 
Bowdoin. Mr. Reid said he felt that this war time was 
not fit for marrying and giving in marriage. There 
would be widows and orphans enough as it was to weep 
over dead soldiers. But if he were living when peace 
came, he should offer himself to one whom he had loved 
since his first meeting her at Plymouth. 

Of course I knew that this meant Hannah Dana, so I 
said, " I hoped she would accept him." And he replied 
that "he hoped so too," but somehow he did not speak 
very cordially about it; maybe he thought that I should 
have felt swre that she would, and not only 'hoped.' 
Speaking thus, made me think of Judith's remarks, and 
connecting them with a rose-bush that we were passing, 
I pulled off a cluster, and presently said, impatiently, that 
they were useless things, living only in summer and sun- 
shine; and as I spoke I tossed them out of my hand. 
Mr. Reid caught them, and said that I valued them too 
lightly, for that roses spoke of the generous giving of 
God, who bestows on us more than the things that are 
for use or for need. I do not know why I said tartly — 



36G PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

"Of course roses are necessary to nobody." "This one 
is to me," said Mr. Reid, and he put one bud in his 
pocket-book. I stood vexed, divided in my mind 
between his having the rose and Thomas the lock of my 
hair — but it means nothing in either case. Before we 
went in I begged Mr. E,eid to be especially good, if he 
had opportunity, to Robert Shirtliffe, who had saved my 
cousin's life, and in event of any danger or trouble to 
Robert, to write to my uncle. He said that he would do 
so, and I hope I have procured another friend for poor 
Deborah, who' is now parted from Hannah. And so, 
with Mr. Reid's departure, the last of our friends of the 
army had gone, and we were able to give our attention 
to what passes in the city. 

Mrs. Bache has come back, and is now living in Dr.. 
Franklin's house. She was vexed to find her father's 
portrait taken off, but said things were better than she 
expected to see them. 

We begin to think that uncle was in the right about 
General Arnold. His conduct in the city is not giving 
satisfaction. He is very extravagant, and has already be- 
gun a style of living that does not suit the poverty of the 
colonial cause,, nor the sorrows of the present time. It is 
said that he has shown himself much pleased with Miss 
Margaret Shippen, one of the Tory ladies, a great belle 
of the mischianza, and a particular friend of Captain 
Andre. The general has his quarters in " William Penn's 
house," on the corner of Second Street and Morris Alley, 
and he maintains a finer style of living than any one else 
in the city. He keeps a coach and four, and servants in 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 367 

livery, and has given a splendid banquet already. My 
uncle was invited but would not go, as he likes not such 
display when our men are barefoot in winter, and our 
currency is depreciating to be worth only five cents for 
a dollar. 

Charles heard it whispered the other day that the gen- 
eral had lately desired an exchange into the navy, but 
that the matter had dropped. 

I just now noted the lessening value of our currency; 
the coming of our army has flooded the city with conti- 
nental paper worth almost nothing ; prices have risen to 
fabulous, height. Mistress Bache yesterday declared that 
a servant who carried a market basket on one arm, must 
carry an equal basket of money on the other to pay for 
the filling. 

The reason of this light value of the paper is that there 
are no taxes ; no central government is able to tax all 
the colonies, and to be responsible for the redemption of 
the money issued. There are hopes of foreign loans, but 
Spain is evidently ill disposed ; the Duke of Tuscany 
hates us ; the king of Prussia has not declared himself; 
Russia keeps aloof. We get a little money from France, 
and Congress can do nothing better than order renewed 
issues of bills that are only worth the paper they are 
printed upon. It is from this, our financial distress, that 
England expects her success. 

This morning I Avent with Judith to the w'idow Ross, 

to see about getting our sideboard mended, and while the 

widow was talking with us she said, pulling open a little 

square drawer, some four inches deep, "See, once I 
24 



368 



PATRIOT AND TOBY: 



thought myself doing well if in a day I got the bottom 
of this covered with silver and gold; but now behold my 
cash drawer ! " and she pulled open a great bureau drawer, 

with quantities of 
paper in it, saying, 
" 'T is hardly w^orth 
while to lock it up; 
no one covets the 
stuff." 

"At this rate you 
will be ruined," said 
Judith. 

"Well," said wid- 
ow Ross cheerfully, 
" our children will 
rise to prosperity on 
our ruin ; we can 
afford to be sacrificed 




i^0m 



GENERAL FRANCIS MARION. 



to obtain a grand future for our country. Sorrow before 
success." 

September 30, 1778. 

The chief movement in the North this summer was that 
for the re-conquest of Rhode Island; storms and mis- 
understandings put the Colonial forces on shore, and the 
French fleet at cross purposes. The attempt failed with 
loss on our side. The French have gone to the West 
Indies. La Fayette has been sent to the Mohawk Valley. 

In the South we have indications of an attack ujion 
Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida. The Southern 
delegates have requested that Major-General Lincoln be 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 369 

sent to their department. It is said that Count Pulaski, 
our brave Polish helper, will go there also. They have 
such men as Pinckney, Marion, Mcintosh, Pickens, and 
James Jackson, and surely in the end such patriots and 
heroes must win the day. 

In the Jerseys there have been many surprises and 
skirmishes accompanied with sad loss of life. Hannah 
Dana must have her hands full of work ; my uncle once 
sent her some stores. I had a letter from Bessie. She 
told me a deal about the gayeties of New York, of the 
dances, plays, and gaming. She said she was sometimes 
very lonely, as there were days when she never saw the 
Major or her father ; again there were days crowded with 
engagements until she was tired to death. She did not feel 
very well; wished she could go to England; sometimes 
wished she were back in Philadelphia or Boston ; wished 
she could see Mistress Seaforth and me. Bessie's letters 
are all tvishes; some more wishes were in the postscript, 
which meant more to me than all the rest of her letter. 
Bessie said she had received uncle's inclosure from Mr. 
Bowdoin. "Why," she said, "did things always happen 
wrong; she thought this world very unsatisfactory. She 
wished Mr. Bowdoin had been a captain, or major, or 
colonel in the British army. "Why was he only a parson 
on the weaker side? Or, if he must be a rebel, why 
was he not a dashing General like Arnold, a Marquis 
like La Fayette, a brilliant cavalier like Lighthorse 
Harry. She wished things had been different, and she 
wished those goods for which she had sent to Nantes 
by Uncle Matthew would arrive." Well, one at least of 



370 PATRIOT AND TORY : 

unsatisfied Bessie's wishes can be gratified — the parcels 
from Nantes came safely, the very day when I received 
the letter, and within a week we were able to forward 
them to New York. I hope they will cheer her up, she 
is evidently unhappy. 

This very day I had a curious meeting in the street. 
I went with Susannah on an errand toward the upper 
end of the city, and saw Dr. Binney's small carriage and 
his pretty orphan niece driving it, with an invalid young 
man by her side, supported by a pillow. When we 
bowed, she drew up near the sidewalk, saying : " My 
uncle has brought one of his soldier patients home, and 
I am taking him out for a drive." The patient's eyes 
were closed as he leaned back on his pillow, his head had 
been shaved, and was covered by a close cap of black 
velvet, but there was something singularly familiar in the 
pale face; and as the eyes unclosed I once more recog- 
nized — Deborah Samson ! I could not restrain an excla- 
mation of astonishment, and to cover it, cried: "What, 
Robert! wounded again?" then I added to the lady — 
"This is the soldier who, as you may have heard, once 
saved the life of my cousin Charles ; he also came from 
Plymouth." At these words, Susannah rejoiced to see 
her brother's preserver, declared that we should have had 
the privilege of nursing him. The invalid seemed much 
overcome. "Oh, me!" cried the fair nurse, "this is the 
first outing, and my uncle will be so angry if our pa- 
tient gets worse— I must drive home, he is becoming 
excited." 

I called out, " Be sure and send me word how soon 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 371 

Dr. Binney will allow me, an old friend, to call. Do not 
forget." 

And so promising to send me permission for the visit 
they went away. I am in a sad state of anxiety to get to 
Deborah, she may need my help. She looked dreadfully. 

December 25, 1778. 

This is the Christ-day ; the day when angels sang of 
peace and good will to men. I wish such a strain would 
break over this unhappy land. There are many troubles 
to tell of, but I begin about Deborah Samson. After 
several days I had a note from Dr. Binney himself, say- 
ing that his soldier, Shirtliflfe, had been worse, and that as 
soon as he was able to see me I might come. It was 
nearly the last of October before I was sent for. Uncle 
bade me bring the patient back with me, if the Doctor 
thought proper. I saw Robert alone, not looking quite 
so pale, and hair grown somewhat. The trouble this time 
was brain fever. Many of the men around West Point 
Avere taken with this disease. When Deborah first felt 
the symptoms, she suffered beyond expression, most of all 
with apprehension of discovery. Xo Hannah was near 
to shield her. She felt tempted to go and throw herself 
into the river, as she felt that she would only die at the 
most, and by drowning herself she could keep her secret. 
She said only the memory of my grandfather's teachings 
saved her from suicide. 

As she lay under the shelter of a tree, feeling too pros- 
trated to do duty. Captain Richard Reid, who had several 
times been kind to her, came up, saying : " Why, Bob, 
are you also sick? "and then felt her pulse, and inquired 



372 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

into her symptoms. He saw that brain fever was ap- 
proaching, and having called the doctor, and administered 
some remedies, he proposed that " Shirtlifife " should be 
sent with some invalids and convalescents, who were that 
day to start in a wagon-train for a hospital, within twenty 
miles of Philadelphia. This was agreed to, and Robert 
was removed with the others. This hospital was under 
charge of Doctor Binney. Deborah has not the least 
recollection of reaching it, aor of what occurred after she 
came there, until, opening her eyes in a return of con- 
sciousness, she heard one say : " Here is poor Bob come 
to life ; wc thought he had gone, and he might have been 
buried but for the doctor." At these words, flashed into 
her mind the strange thought that she was not yet dis- 
covered ! Presently some nourishment was put into her 
mouth, and she thinks she slept soundly all night. What 
seemed the next morning came, and she was again given 
food and medicine, but treated as one unconscious or 
crazed by the nurses who spoke of and not to her, and 
she heard one say : " No one but the doctor is to touch 
Bob ; Bob is his favorite." Finally Doctor Binney came, 
spoke kindly, bathed her head, arranged her pillow, and 
said that when enough improvement was made "Robert" 
should go to his house for nursing. 

Thus about the 21st of September, Deborah w^as re- 
moved to the doctor's house in Philadelphia, given a 
good room, good care, a new suit of clothes; the doctor's 
niece made the patient's shirts, read, sung, took Robert 
out to ride, and every one accepted her as Robert Shirt- 
liffe, soldier. Deborah told me she had Avatched the doc- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 373 

tor's every look, tone, word, to ascertain if he had fonud 
out her deception. She thought he must have done so, 
yet he gave no sign. After meeting me and Susannah 
she became worse, but was now speedily recovering. She 
had said to the doctor : " It is time for me to rejoin my 
regiment;" and he had replied, " I must keep you here 
until your recovery is perfect." 

I told Deborah to wait with patience for further de- 
velopments, and if any fresh anxiety or trouble came to 
her, to apply to me. I should never whisper her secret to 
any one, without her permission; but she might rely on 
my uncle's being her good friend in any event. But 
again, as often before, I begged her to give up her soldier 
life. She replied, never while she might so serve her 
country in perfect secret. If a soul suspected her dis- 
guise she would fly at once. I have called on her once 
since then, accompanied by my cousins, and all remains 
the same. 

AVe have had terrible news from Cherry Valley, about 
as dreadful as that from Wyoming. The settlement is 
entirely destroyed ; women and children were murdered, 
houses were burned. Colonel Campbell's family have 
been carried oif, and no one knows where they are, if 
they are yet living. Mistress Campbell's mother was aged 
and feeble, and the youngest child was but a year and a 
half old — no one knows what has become of these cap- 
tives. I had a letter from Thomas Otis, and he tells me 
that in a skirmish with British and Indians, Isaiah 
Hooper was captured, and he fears has been tortured to 
death, I have written to Mistress Hooper to soften the 



374 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



sad story as much as possible, telling her that her hus- 
band has been made prisoner in the North, and that I 
hope he will escape or be exchanged. It will be a 
dreary winter for her, knowing how terribly he suffered 




INDIAN JIASSACRE IN CHEERY VALLEY. 



in his former captivity. General McDougall is now in 
command at the Highlands. General Washington has 
extended his troops in a strong line fron^ the Sound to 
the Delaware, and has established his head-quarters near 
Middlebrook in the Jerseys. 

February 6, 1779. 

Yesterday morning I had a letter from Dame Warren. 
She is with Lady Washington in the camp at INIiddle- 
brook; so are Mistress Greene, Mistress Knox, and other 
notable ladies. The officers intend to celebrate the first 
anniversary of the alliance with France with as much 
splendor as possible ; but the festivity is put off until the 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 375 

eighteenth, because of General AYashington's absence, he 
being here in the city. I woukl he remained here all the 
time, so might he hold General Arnold in check. Ar- 
nold is now to be married to Miss Margaret Shippen, and 
he is now continually surrounded by her Tory friends. 
Not that I dislike honest Tories, they must do as they 
think proper, but they are enemies of our cause, and one 
of our foremost generals should not be taking them for 
friends in preference to Patriots. Indeed, even last 
month, people in speaking of him, said that he was a part 
Tory, and should be discharged. The tyranny of this 
man is worse than that of Lord Howe. He is perfectly 
extravagant, and takes shameful means to replenish his 
purse. Under pretense of supplying the army, he forbids 
the shop-keepers to sell or buy ; then he puts all goods at 
the disposal of his agents, and they make enormous 
profits on them, and share plunder with him. My uncle 
being one who would not connive at such doings, his 
warehouses are now keeping a sort of Sabbath all the 
week. There is nothing doing at them. One thing lean 
say for General Arnold, when my uncle went to him for 
protection for Mr. Seaforth's family and property, he got 
it readily — that was kind. 

The people of Pennsylvania and the city of Philadel- 
phia are furious at Arnold, and the council will probably 
prepare charges against him. My uncle says there may 
be some excuse for him, as he has been soured by neg- 
lect and unkind treatment, when his great bravery de- 
manded high recognition. General Washington felt that 
Arnold had not met due kindness; but from what I learn 



376 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

he must always have been cruel, hasty, selfish, and ex- 
travagant. General Washington has had a thousand 
times Arnold's provocations, and no one ever heard of 
his becoming angry or embittered toward his country by 
it. Then Arnold has had a good mother, and his first 
Avife was a most noble woman ; so Dame Warren told me 
long ago. 

But this brings me back to Dame Warren's letter. 
She desired me to come to camp and visit her, and be 
present at the f^te. She kindly said that she loved riie 
for my grand-parents' sake, and that she would see me 
again, in memory of old Plymouth days; and she added 
a postscript to my uncle, begging him to bring her young 
country-woman to visit her. My uncle kindly consented, 
and to-morrow Ave are to set forth. My uncle has some 
business in camp, and, wonder of wonders, we are to ride 
in the general's retinue, as he returns to Middlebrook. 
My uncle has to-day had my roan's saddle re-furbished, 
and Judith lent me her best riding habit and the new 
hat that came from Nantes. Susannah and Hester and I 
have been busy to-day, preparing a dress suitable for me 
to wear at the festa. I hope to have a grand visit. 

March 3, 1779. 

So the visit is over, and I am back to write about it. 
We set forth in style, Peter riding behind us with our 
baggage. We joined the general's troop five miles from 
town. Our journey was delightful. My uncle rode by 
the general several times, and had some conversation 
with him. The general says that the alliance with 
France is paralyzing our energies by begetting a false 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 377 

feeling of security ; dissensions and party feuds in Con- 
gress are harming us more than do our foes, and he 
thinks the States too busy in local concerns, and too 
careless of the Central Government. The best men are 
not in Congress, and the land suffers for want of their 
guidance. The general most of all deplores the dissipa- 
tion and extravagance of the times. He says the revelrv 
in Philadelphia cut him to the heart when he thought 
how the soldiers are unpaid and unprovided, and true 
patriots are sinking into ruin. To this country the 
general stands as a father, and how is his great heart 
burdened when he sees the folly and idleness of some 
of his children, the hopeless sufferings of others, and the 
approaching financial ruin of the household! He mourns 
that we are so lacking in honest republican simplicity. 

Would that all the nation followed the example set 
them by General and Lady Washington ! My uncle did 
not wish to intrude upon the general too long. He told 
me of all these things when he fell back and rode beside 
me in the rear of our cavalcade. 



378 PATRIOT AND TORY: 



CHAPTER XV. 

March 5, 1779. 
TITE had remarkably good weather and firm roads for 
' ' our journey. The fine weather continued fiar our fi^rt- 
nighi's absence from home, so that we had only two 
stormy days. We left camp on the 20th of February, 
and reached home the next day. "We found the army 
in their winter-quarters, hutted as last year, but the huts 
were better, the interstices filled with sod and clay, and 
the officer's cabins having separate kitchens. The huts also 
had better floors. The camp presented a very good ap- 
pearance, like a regular, clean, and compact village. 
The soldiers were better clad, better armed, fed, ai^id 
drilled than last winter, and they looked healthier and 
more cheerful. Baron Steuben had his quarters at Mr. 
Staat's house. The Baron is as active and faithful as 
last year, and has less trouble, as now the men un- 
derstand him better, and see the value of his drill, and 
he knows more of our language. The Baron's grand, 
dignified manners, his urbane treatment of every one, 
and his elegant dress, impress all who meet him, and 
all feel the debt we owe to the noted warrior, who left 
honors and ease to become drill-master for our forlorn 
cause. He begins now to see the success that looked 
nearly impossible a year ago. At head-quarters I found 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 379 

Dame Warren as guest of Lady Washington. There 
were a number of other ladies at camp. My friends 
are more scattered than last winter ; indeed, none that 
I knew were near us. Hannah Dana and Mr. Reid 
were at Pluckemin, where the artillery lies. Joseph 
Dana was there also. 

The second day after our arrival, my uncle, who has 
been engaged of late in getting in foreign supplies for 
the army, had business with General Washington. They 
had nearly concluded, when Uncle John dropped his 
glasses and broke them. This left him quite helpless, 
and he called for me to read his papers for him, and 
make the needful notes on the margins. I. am ac- 
customed at home to help him in this way, and he 
thought no one could do it so well. After about an 
hour, some question arose, and finally my uncle and 
one of the general's aids said they would step over to 
the quartermaster's to settle it. This left me by my 
desk in the corner, alone with the general, except for 
an attendant, Avho stood by a window. The general 
was writing busily, when a knock came and some one 
entered. I stole a look — weary of staring at figures — 
and there was Robert ShirtUffe, a promising looking 
young soldier, health restored, hair grown ! Said Rob- 
ert bowed low, and handed a large letter to the gen- 
eral, but trembled, flushed, and looked in an agony of 
apprehension. 

Our good general, pitying this excessive embarrassment 
in his presence, kindly bid his idle attendant to take the 
soldier to the kitchen for refreshment. I saw that some 



380 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

terrible crisis in Deborah's life had come. I recalled her 
fortitude, her sufferings, her lonely, bereft life. If I could 
comfort her in trouble, I should do so. I forgot my awe, 
and said, after the attendant had conducted her from the 
room: "Your Excellency, I know that soldier; may I go 
and speak to him?" 

The general was just breaking the seal of the letter. 
He glanced at me, a little surprised, rather severely, and 
bowed. 

I found Deborah seated in the general's kitchen — a 
cup of coffee and a plate of bread and meat before her. 
I whispered, "What is the matter now, Deborah?" 

"I do not know, but I think, I fear, that I am dis- 
covered." 

"Keep up your courage," I said. "I will return where 
I was, and will stand your friend." So I ran back to my 
uncle's paper, and began a vigorous scratching with my 
pen. The general had two letters in his hand and was 
reading them with an immovable countenance. At last 
he began to write, and after a moment or two of that, I 
heard him open a drawer, and handle some money. I 
dared not move my head. And then Deborah — soldier 
Robert — came back, saluted, and stood crimson, with 
downcast eyes. The general motioned dismissal to the at- 
tendant. We three were alone. The room seemed terri- 
bly still. The general handed a paper to the trembling 
soldier. I heard Deborah choke down a sob as the paper 
rustled in her hand. Then she bent her head, and her 
eyes overflowed. He then gave her some coins and a let- 
ter, in perfect silence, and motioned that she might with- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 381 

draw. As she turned I could not refrain from giving 
him an imploring look. I saw that he assented to my 
speaking with her, and so followed her into the hall. 

"Deborah!" I said, catching her arm, "promise me that 
you will not serve again ! " 

"Never," she replied, in a trembling voice. 

"And tell me where you will go." 

She hesitated, then said: 

" To Isaiah Hooper's. If I can not be a soldier, I can 
preserve a soldier's family and home. I shall there be 
welcomed and unquestioned. Good-bye." 

I returned to the desk. The general leaned back in 
his arm-chair, in a stern sort of reverie. I felt that at 
the bar of his judgment poor Deborah, guiltless of all but 
too, rash a patriotism, was standing condemned. All her 
life she had been desolate and misunderstood, and now he 
would judge her severely, and her cause was unheard. I 
could not bear the thought. I stood behind my chair, 
and looking firmly toward him, I said: "Your Excellency, 
I have known this Deborah Samson for many years; and 
then forgetting my awe of him — forgetting all things but 
my compassion for Deborah — I hastily told him of the 
neglected child, painfully gathering up knowledge from 
passing children ; of the indomitable courage of the young 
woman ; of the loneliness, self-sacrifice, fearlessness of the 
soldier ; of my cousin's saved life ; of wounds, and escapes, 
and of her falling into Dr. Binney's hands. Suddenly, as 
I told this story, I became conscious that the general 
was regarding me with that paternal, indulgent, approv- 
ing look, that my grandfather's face wore long ago when 



382 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

I stood by his study-table in Plymouth saying ray les- 
sons unusually well. I faltered, blushed — a consciousness 
of my temerity rushed upon me. Said the general : 
" Would that all who err in head or heart might have so 
generous, so earnest an advocate." Then he asked me her 
true name, and where she was going; and when I told 
him, he made a note in a book. I then returned to my 
uncle's papers, and in a few minutes he came in, and 
when I had written for him a little longer, he sent me to 
Dame Warren. I am glad that Deborah is out of the 
army ; her being there was truly an error of the head. I 
shall never tell my uncle the story, unless it first reaches 
him by some other means; lest he esteem Deborah Sam- 
son less than Robert Shirtliffe. 

My uncle took me to Pluckemin for three days to visit 
Hannah. She is better off than last year, there are less 
unhelped sufferings to tear her heart, but Hannah looks 
sadly worn. She said the fur cloak, which Judith sent 
her, had been of great use in cold days and nights. 
Richard Reid is very devoted to helping her, and she 
told me but for him she would have sunk under discour- 
agements long ago. Mr. Reid returned with us to head- 
quarters, and remained two days. After he had gone, 
Mistress Warren told me that if he lives until peace is 
declared and the army disbanded, he means to conclude 
his reading for the ministry and take a congregation. 

Well, I think Hannah Dana would make a very good 
minister's wife. It is what my grandmother said that she 
was suited for. Dame Warren said to me, "When that 
time comes he will want a wife." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 383 

" Yes, surely," saicl I. 

"And he now has one in his mind, whom he will ask," 
said she, "if before then she does not love another." 

"There is no danger," I said, for surely Hannah Dana 
would not think of taking one less worthy when she 
might have Richard Reid. 

"And you fancy that she will have him?" asked the 
Dame. 

"Oh, I am sure of it," I said. 

"Perhaps you do not know \vho.she is," said she. 

"Perhaps not, but I think I have a guess," I re- 
plied. 

" I think you have not," she answered, laughing ; but 
she does not know how Mr. Peid spoke to me about 
Hannah. 

The second day of Mr. Peid's visit, I went out to walk 
with him at the outer edge of the encampment, and we 
saw the soldiers crowding about a small cart where a 
man was selling apples. They were poor apples, and he 
wanted a continental dollar apiece for them. 

"Apples at a dollar each!" cried Pichard Peid, "what 
Avould my father have thought of that, Avhen his orchards 
were loaded with fruit?" but my eyes were fixed on the 
fruit-seller. I was sure that I had seen him before, in 
spite of the changes again made in his dress. I felt con- 
vinced that it was Brown, the spy. 

I said, "I must go back to my uncle!" Richard ob- 
jected, but I insisted. I dared not tell him what T sus- 
pected, suppose I should be wrong. And then if this 

.was indeed Brown, and he should be arrested, what then? 
25 



384 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

I .'shivered at the thought of causing his death, but evi- 
dently it was my duty to tell my uncle. 

We found Uncle John at last, and when he heard my 
news, he hurried off. I went to Dame Mercy Warren, 
and sat Avishing that I had never seen Brown. When 
about two hours after, my uncle came in saying that the 
man truly Avas Brown, and was captured, I felt so badly 
that I could not eat my supper nor sleep. Mr. Reid 
came to bid me " Good-bye." I said, " Oh, I wish I 
could let Brown out, he has a wife and children." 

"But consider the harm he might do. It is thought 
that he led the party that found Baylor's dragoons, and 
slaughtered them." 

" Then he will surely be hung," said I, " and I will 
always feel that I caused it. Oh, I Avish I had remained 
at home in Philadelphia." I meditated begging the gen- 
eral to have Brown imprisoned until the end of the war, 
or sent to England, and so I tossed about all night in 
wretchedness, not repenting that I had done my duty, yet 
half wishing I might undo it. I had my trouble for 
nothing, for the next morning Brown had escaped, no one 
knew how; and then thinking what mischief he might do, 
I was sorry that he had gone! What Avorrying times 
war times are. I wish some one would catch Brown, and 
I not know any thing about it. 

Well, the fete put all these troublesome thoughts from 
my mind. The people from far and near came to witness 
the display of fire-works and illuminations. I wish that 
the Marquis La Fayette had been here to see, but he has 
returned to France to his family. He is coming back if 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



385 



there is more fighting. The celebration began at four 
o'clock in the afternoon, with a discharge of thirteen can- 
non. There was then a dinner, for an invited company. I 
was among the guests, on account of my uncle and Dame 
\Yarren, I sup- 
pose. Richard 
Reid was of the 
company. H e 
is the one officer 
to whom it docs 
not seem natural 
for me to say 
Captain, or oth- 
erwise give his 
title. I suppose 
because I first 
met him as plain 
3Ir. Reid. The 
ladies at the din- 
ner looked very 
grand, especially 
Lady Washing- 
ton, Mrs. Knox 
and Dame War- 
ren. I had a blue brocade dress, over a white satin petti- 
coat, and I wore my mother's lace and pearls. In the 
evening we had displays of illuminated pictures, mottoes, 
and fire-works, and after that there was a ball. I stopped 
for awhile to see the dancing. The general opened the 




RETURN OF LA FAYETTE TO FRANCE. 



386 PATRIOT AXD TOBY: 

ball Avith Mrs. Knox. It was very grand, and the music 
was delightful. 

The day but one after the festival my uncle and I 
came home. We found that while we were gone letters 
had come from Colonel Nelson and Captain Seaforth, 
and that Mrs. Logan had been to visit Judith, and had 
taken Hester home with her. Judith and Mrs. Bache 
are as usual busy for our soldiers, and especially for the 
sick and wounded who are sent into the city. The 
Council of Pennsylvania have preferred charges against 
General Arnold, and he is to be tried by court-martial. 

July 20, 1779. 

Another long break in my journal, but I have been 
w'here I could not carry these papers, and could only jot 
down a line or so in my note-book. A dreary time in- 
deed has it been to me. I had, about the end of JNfarch, 
a letter from Bessie, written in very low spirits. She 
said that she was sick and unhappy; that she often saw 
neither her father nor husband for days together. The 
2d of April I received another letter, feebly and irregu- 
larly written, saying that she was very ill, and thought 
she was going to die. She had no friends, only careless 
servants to attend on her. She had not so much as a 
Bible. She begged me to come and stay with her until 
she died. To this letter her father added a line, entreat- 
ing me to come, saying that he thought Bessie would 
drop off in a consumption, as her mother had done, and 
inclosing a pass, which Major Banks had procured for 
me to enter the city. Mr. Warley said that Bessie was 
now in the house of an excellent Quaker lady, who would 



ONE HUNDEED YEARS AGO. 387 

be very kind to me, and that there ^vcre no officers nor 
strangers in the house with her. My uncle, after long 
deliberation, felt it his duty to allow me to go, and as he 
would not have me unattended in the city, he decided 
that Nervey was to go with me. A small ship with a 
flag of truce had come up the Delaware to exchange 
prisoners, and on this I went to New York. We had 
fair weather and a quick passage. 

The commissioners who came last year from England 
were enthusiastic in their praises of this country, its 
mighty rivers, and magnificent prospects. I do not 
wonder at this, when they had just sailed up the Del- 
aware. The broad river; the fertile, low-lying shores; 
the wide plains; the white, peaceful villages; and the 
noble forests, offer pictures of unparalleled beauty. As 
long as daylight lasted, I remained on deck, watching 
the varied scenery of the shores, and the ships, and fish- 
ing-boats upon the river, and here and there the dark 
mass of a frigate, and I wished the day would be as long 
as that wherein Joshua warred with the five kings, that I 
might longer enjoy prospects so new and fair. But 
though day departed, we almost realized the promise for 
the heavenly land — " There shall be no night ; " for as the 
sun sunk below the horizon, a broad full moon filled the 
air with a subdued splendor. The ships and the shores 
were still visible, and I was so fascinated with the spectacle 
that I would not go below. So poor Xervey, Avho has no 
taste for fine scenery, wrapped her shawl o^ver her head, 
and lay down on the deck at my feet to sleep. 

Around the deck were scattered groups of exchanged 



388 PATRIOT AND TORY : 

prisoners. They looked as if they had been well cared 
for, whicli is more than can be said of those who were ex- 
changed for them. One of these prisoners was an officer, 
and his wife had come to meet him. The two sat at the 
bow of the ship, clasping each other's hands, and enjoying 
in silence their restored happiness. Another soldier was a 
mere boy ; his arm was in a sling ; his mother had come 
for him, and he lay on the deck sleeping, with his head in 
her lap, while she, seated on a coil of rope, was too glad 
to pass in sleep the hours which assured her of the safety 
of her son. 

AVe found the noble harbor of New York filled with 
English ships, men-of-war, and merchant vessels. Truly 
New York is a very wonderful city, as big and noisy as 
Boston and Philadelphia put together. I do not know 
whether I had most dreaded having Mr. AVarley or Major 
Banks come and meet me, two men whom I detest ; how- 
ever, they both came, and truly they were very kind. They 
had brought a little carriage, and they put me and Ner- 
vey and my trunk therein. They said Bessie was very 
poorly, and most anxious to see me. 

I was glad to find that the house where she was lods;- 
ing was in a quiet, retired street, and the good Quaker 
lady, who owns it, welcomed me kindly. Her name was 
Mistress White. It seems my fate to be with Quaker 
ladies while I wait on the sick. At Trenton, Valley Forge 
and New York T have been in their houses. INIistress 
AVhite took me into her parlor to lay off my hat and 
cloak, while Major Banks went to tell Bessie of my ar- 
rival. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 389 

Mistress "White said : " I am glad thee has come ; that 
young thing needs a friend to comfort her ; young avo- 
men, who live on this world's follies, have sore need of 
comforters when they are laid by in a sick room. What 
is called natural affection is a poor thing without godli- 
ness. Thee has. the face of one who knows the power 
of the Avorld to come ; and perhaps thee can teach that 
ygung thing up stairs that when father and husband for- 
sake, the Lord can take her np." 

Poor Bessie, is she so lonely as to be termed forsaken f 

I left Nervey to arrange the little room assigned me, 
where a pallet had been made for her at the foot of my 
bed, and I followed Mistress White up to see Bessie. The 
poor, dear girl looked very ill; her eyes were hollow, her 
hands wasted, her cheeks feverish. She also looked 
poorly taken care of, her cap and gown were tumbled, 
her bed disordered, the light from the window fell broadly 
across her eyes. Major Banks was lounging in an easy 
chair by the dressing table, drinking brandy from a flask 
standing there, and eating bits out of a rich cake, which 
lay on a towel upon a chair. 

He said to me, "Bessie's maid went off yesterday; she 
was such a thief we could not keep her. The Quaker 
woman is too busy to do much, but I'll look np another 
maid as soon as I can find one, who only steals small 
things, and does not get more than moderately drunk." 

The prospect of having a Avoman of Major Banks's se- 
lection, thievish and drunken, always near me, was so 
frightful that I said, " Pray do not get any one until I see 
if Nervey and I can not do alone." 



390 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

He seemed well .pleased at the suggestion. Presently 
he rose, saying: "Well! glad you've come. You'll get 
better now, Bess ; and I sha'n't hear so much about neg- 
lect, and lonesome, and all that fol-de-rol." 

''It did not trouble you," snapped Bessie; "you have 
not been here since day before yesterday." 

He muttered something about "sickness being a con- 
founded bore," "no time," "drill," " peace of life," and 
so on; and then telling me, more civilly, that he "hoped 
I'd soon bring my patient round, guessed she only had 
the megrims," he departed, his sabre and spurs clanking 
loudly on the stairs. ^ 

Bessie clung to my hand and cried, and said I was 
"too. good" to come. She "wanted to die in my arms," 
and that she was " perfectly wretched, and believed that 
both her father and the major wanted to get rid of her." 
She was evidently ill of a low fever, aggravated by un- 
happiness and no care. I found that she- had not been 
out of bed nor bathed for three days, and that her morn- 
ing's food had been cake and brandy. I only wonder 
she was not dead. 

I said to her plainly — for I know she needs decided 
dealing with — "Xow, Bessie, I'll stay and nurse you; 
cure you if I can, if you will do as I say; but mind, I 
rule here, and if you do not let me do as I wish, I shall 
leave." 

" I '11 do any thing to have you stay," said poor Bessie. 

I called Nervey to bathe and dress Bessie, make the 
bed, and set the room tidy. I cleared out the wine and 
brandy, the cake, sweetmeats, and medicine; brought in 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 39 1 

fresh air, shaded the windows, sent for a bouquet, and 
borrowed from Mistress White a cage with sonic pretty 
birds in it; Then I comforted Bessie by looking over 
her boxes and wardrobes to see what the late " viaid " 
had left. Poor Bessie, so ill, so unhappy, and yet so fe- 
verishly anxious to know how many laces, jewels, and 
nick-nacks she had remainins; ! 

Among other acts of authority, I refused admission to 
all Bessie's acquaintances, allowing only her flither and the 
major to come to her room. They, for decency's sake, 
and, perhaps because the apartment was now less' for- 
bidding, and Bessie less morbid and querulous, began to 
call once a day. I encouraged the good Mistress White 
to come and sit with us for half hours, as she had 
time, for her converse was wise, pious, and restful ; and I 
hoped it would do ray cousin good. I would not allow 
Bessie to talk of .her late dissipations, of scenes of ex- 
citement, of the delinquencies of her husband ; but I 
often talked with her of Plymouth, of old times, of my 
uncle's family, and our home life. I sung to her a great 
deal, usually the hymns which my grandfather had 
loved ; sometimes, for {^ change, the songs which I had 
caught by hearing Colonel Nelson and Susannah prac- 
ticing together. 

I had brought a few books with me, and found a few 
others in Mistress White's possession, and from these I 
read to Bessie each day, beginning with the Bible. I do 
not think she cared much for it, but she accepted it 
quietly, and seemed to take some consolation in thinking 
that "it was the right thing to do." I often puzzle over 



392 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

the various ways in whicli people receive the Bible : some 
take it as a medicine or as sick diet — tasteless but needful. 
Others can say ^yith David, " I have esteemed Thy word 
more than my necessary food." Always in that blessed 
old home in Plymouth I saw the Book of God the 
daily food of my grand-parents — feeding on Ayhich their 
souls grew, like the child Christ, in wisdom and stature, 
and in favor with God and man. 

Nervey and I continued to be Bessie's only nurses and 
attendants. From the first few days of my visit, the 
army surgeon, who called on her, expressed more favor- 
able opinions of her case than he had previously done. 
He said care, comforting, and nerve-rest were what she 
wanted. I did not forget the promises I made to uncle 
and Judith, and each day exercised in Dame White's 
garden, or went out to walk with her. So with that, and 
good food, and early hours, I kept my health. 

Captain Seaforth, Colonel Nelson, and Major Andre 
called upon me. Henry was particularly good to me, and 
took me out several times, but in the third week of my 
visit he was sent South, and I did not see him again. 
Colonel Nelson could not hear enough about Susannah. 
He is as enthusiastic about her as ever. He brought me 
a charming letter from his mother to read ; it gave me a 
most favorable impression of all his family. 

His mother said that she, like the great majority of 
the English people, longed only for peace to be made, 
that the armies might return home. It was a bitter 
thought to her that her only son Ayas absent from her, 
exposed to death, and to all the evils of a camp ; not for 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 393 

winning honorable laurels for his king; not to uphold 
justice in the world; but to fight against a kindred peo- 
ple, in a cause that, at best, was doubtful. She said he 
was doing his bounden duty as a soldier, and she trusted 
that he would be brave, honorable, and merciful in war; 
but desired that the war might have a speedy termina- 
tion. She also prayed God, that if he truly and ardently 
loved " his licautiful American," it might be his happi- 
ness to return home with her, and that any one that he 
loved would be sure to receive the tenderest of welcomes 
from his mother. 

She added on behalf of his uncle, whose heir he is, 
that he was so anxious to have him marry and settle on 
the estate, that if he would but sell his commission, and 
bring home the wife of his choice, she would, with all 
honor, be installed mistress of the mansion. She said 
that his sister was sure that if Miss Temple " excelled all 
women whomever he had seen," she must be a marvel- 
ous paragon, for he had seen many charming ladies, both 
at home and abroad. 

Indeed, in the whole letter, there was such a tenderness, 
simplicity, and sincerity, that I was greatly delighted, and 
exclaimed, 

"How pleased my uncle would be with such a letter." 

Involuntarily he half returned it to me, then checked 
himself, as unwilling to use his mother's letter in his ow^n 
behalf, said : 

"But you — " and again his delicacy checked him, in 
suo-crestinp; the conferring of a favor. 

I said : " I can tell him about it, with your permission." 



394 P-'^ TRIO T AND 1 OR Y: 

" Thauk you ! " he cried, greatly pleased, and added : 
" If Susannah makes me the happiest of mortals, by going 
home with me, you must add to our happiness by visiting 
us. It will not do for her to think that she would be 
quite separated from her friends and family." 

This put the idea of parting with my dearest Susan- 
nah before me in a i)ainful]y clear light, but the sug- 
gestion of my ever visiting that glorious and storied 
home-land was delightful. 

I spoke of Susannah and the colonel to Bessie that 
evening. She said, pettishly : 

"Yes, Susannah .has wondrous luck; what marvel if 
the colonel holds out so well as he has begun ! " Then 
she told me that Major Banks never seemed to get any 
letters from England; never allowed her to see any that 
came; never gave her any messages from his friends, and 
was angry if she spoke of the possibility of their going 
to England. She cried, and declared that she " would not 
be surprised if he ran off to England and left her, and 
that he cared for nobody." 

I tried to calm and comfort her. A day or two after 
she happened to' tell me that she had answered the letter 
from Mr. Bowdoin that my uncle had sent her, and that 
she had received another to her father's care, and had an- 
swered that. 

I cried in amaze : " Surely, Bessie ! you have never 
concealed your marriage." 

She looked embarrassed — then said: "Why not? He 
would not answer me else; and it would be unkind to 
hurt his feelings by telling him such news." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



395 



" And why do you want to hear from him, Bessie?" 

"Because — " she faltered — "because it is nice to know 
that any one cares for me;" and she began to cry bitterly. 

"Oh, Bessie, 
Bessie!" I said; 
" what a pity that 
you were not wise 
in time, and that 
you did not marry 
him." 

" I should have 
died of Plymouth, 
if I had married 
him, not knowing 
that other things 
could be w^orse." 

So sighed Be.' 
sic, and I recalle I 
what she had said 
to Mistress Sea- 
forth, jestingly, 
about an elope- 
ment, and I was 
glad that she had the defense of Mr. Bowdoin's goodness. 
When he knows of her marriage he M'ill drop the acquaint- 
ance, T thought, and I resolved to write to Thomas Otis 
to tell him, as soon as I got home. 

I left Philadelphia on the 4th of April ; reached Xew 
York on the 7th. Bessie got better steadily after my 
coming, and in a month's time could walk about her room, 




BESSIE CONVALESCENT. 



396 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

and was regaining flesh and color. About the 8th of 
May, Major Banks was lounging out part of a morning 
in Bessie's jjarlor, when his servant brought him in two 
or three letters — an English ship having just come up 
the Bay. 

He tore open one in terrible haste, turned his ])ack on 
us, seemed to read it hurriedly, and broke forth into a 
perfect storm of curses. 

"For shame, major! — how" can you?" cried Bessie. 

" Sir, you insult me," said I in anger, rising to leave 
the room. 

He bounced up, saying : " Beg pardon. Confound my 
luck. I'm going. "What a world of fools it is." And 
crushing on his hat he tore down stairs. 

" He has been losing at play," said Bessie, " or has 
missed remittances." 

She did not seem much disturbed. The major did not 
return for three days. Finally he sauntered in, looking 
as if he had been drinking a good deal. His visit Avent 
well enough, until Bessie asked when the ship Tempest 
was expected. He darted up, and asked, with an oath, 
" why she cared ? " 

" Because, I sent for some gowns by it," said Bessie. 

" I would it and all the gowns in it were sunk," said 
he, and with little more ado away he went. 

He did not visit us again fur two days, then he came, 
looking unusually haggard ; and so called each day, until 
the 20th, wlien lie said he was off for an expedition, and 
would be gone for a month — "perhaps he would be shot; 
if so, look for no will, for he had no effects." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 397 

All the notice Bessie, who was much stronger, took of 
this, was to say after he had gone, " she wondered what 
she would have to live on as a widow, and how she would 
look in black " 

It so disgusted me that I went oif to sit with Dame 
White. The 22d, the Tempest arrived, a boy was sell- 
ing hand-bills with the news printed on them, and I 
bought one. Bessie was all elated because of her new 
gowns and ribbons ; she went to the glass twenty times to 
see if her complexion had been harmed by her illness, and 
declared that she would be about now when she had 
clothes worth wearing. She had been out once for a 
drive, and twice to walk a little way. 

I now told her that she was well enough to be left, 
and that I should go home as soon as Mr. Warley could 
get me a pass. I also gave her an invitation from Mrs. 
Seaforth for her to come to her for the summer. Colonel 
Nelson had brought me a letter from my friends, sent 
under cover to him. The colonel had said farewell when 
he brought it ; his regiment was ordered to Rhode Island. 

Bessie cried, and made such an ado at word of my 
going, that I resolved to continue my preparations in 
silence. The 23d of May, Mr. Warley brought Bessie 
her parcel from the Tempest. She w^as very well con- 
tentexl that day and the next, in trying on her new dec- 
orations and in preparing a fresh bonnet, and a cardinal. 
Mr Warley promised to see to my getting home as 
speedily as possible. 

On the 25th, there was to be a grand military review, 
and Bessie had secretly written to Major Andre for tick- 



398 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

ets to a stage prepared for viewing it. The major sent a 
polite note wjth the tiekets, saying that he was about to 
leave the city for a week, or he would offer his escort, 
but that he put his servant and carriage at our service. 
This was the first that I knew of it. Bessie would go, 
and sent for Mr. AYarley to attend us ; she was wild to 
exliil)it her new gown ; and truly Avhen she put it on she 
looked most charming, her illness had not spoiled her 
appearance, and she congratulated herself on her costume, 
and on having a place to show it. 

AVell, we arrived at the staging, which commanded a 
view of the parade ground near the battery, and as Bessie 
cam J up, I saw some whispering and surprise ; no one had ex- 
jjccted her to be able to come, I thought. A strange officer, 
struck with her frail appearance and her beauty, gave her a 
chair near a young English matron, evidently just arrived, 
on M'liosc knee leaned a beautifully dressed and noble- 
looking little lad of five. I sat next to Bessie, and did 
not wonder at the looks of curiosity and aanaze that 
rested on her and her neighbor. The two women were 
indeed a contrast, one fresh, modest, dignified, matronly; 
the other lovely, delicate, girlish, vain. 

The two fell into conversation. One said she had just 
come from England, the other longed to go there. One 
had been more than five years parted from her hus- 
band — the other said she had been married only a year. 
After awhile Bessie, pleased with the child, gave him a 
sweetmeat, and then would have him on her knee, and so 
praised his beauty, kissed him, petted him. 

A young officer — Hester's ci-devant ensign — came to me 



O^^E HUXDBED YEARS AGO. 399 

and said in a husky voice: "Take that child away from 
her — take her home — 'tis no place for her — it will kill 
her — take her away — let me call your carriage." 

"Why, what do you mean?" I said; "she would come, 
but I think it will not harm her seriously." Then, as he 
flushed and stammered, my ear caught their talk again. 

"My husband is a major," says Bessie. 

"Is he? why so is mine, and there he is now. Bobby, 
see papa ; see, dear, there with a sword, this way, with his 
hat oif." 

" Why ! " cried Bessie, leaning forward, " there is my 
husband, and I thought him gone from the city. There 
is my husband with his hat oif giving an order. Abbey, 
what a husband Major Banks is to come back, and not 
let me know ! " 

There was a stir and exclaiming around us. 

Said the English lady, looking Bessie in the face firmly, 
''that auburn-haired major, bareheaded, Major Robert 
Banks, is my husband, this boy's father." 

Bessie sprang up, looked Avildly around, then at the 
anxious, honest face before her, shrieked: "Major Banks, 
your husband! oh, heaven, he is mine;^' and she threw 
her arms above her head, and sank down at the English 
wife's feet with a great cry. 

Several rushed forward. The ensign moaned in my ear, 
" I told you this would kill her. 'Tis true, that is Banks's 
wife. Take her away." 

What should I do to shelter my Bessie, to hide her and 
her misery from all these cruel eyes. Mr. Warley was gone. 
Several kindly stepped forward and lifting Bessie, who 



400 PA TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

Ava.s in a fearful convulsion, carried her toward our car- 
riage. I turned as we went, and saw the sweet white face 
of that deeply wronged Englishwoman, lying in uncon- 
scionsness on a friend's arm, and heard above all the 
tumult, the shrill cry of a child. 

Beyond this scene, I caught a view of Major Banks, 
aware of the excitement on the platform, hurrying from 
the parade ground. He would not come near us. His 
fearful game has been played to its bitter end ; and what 
was Bessie to him? 

I took her home to Mrs. White's, sent for a surgeon, 
and put her to bed. She was raging in a brain fever in 
a few hours, and Nervey and Dame White and I stayed 
by her all night. Mr. Warley could not be found. Cap- 
tain Seaforth, Colonel Nelson, Major Andre, all were gone, 
and in that terrible, hostile city, I stood by my unhappy, 
ruined cousin without a friend. 

About daylight Mr. Warley came. He sent for me to 
the parlor. He was partly intoxicated, and greatly ex- 
cited. He asked: "Is this true about Bessie? I was off 
on some business, and then found that you were gone, and 
during the night I heard from some officers who were with 
me, this — that Banks had a wife come from England, and 
that Bessie met her to-day." 

I knew where he had been, and what his business was, 
haunting the faro tables in which he has a share. 

I said : " It is all true. The wife from England looks' 
like a good, true lady, and she has with her a child. 
Bessie is in a brain fever." 

" Why ! " cried Mr. Warley, striking his hands together 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 401 

violently, " the girl's prospects are rained ! And I 
thought the major a fairly good match for her." 

" Oh, sir," I said, " her happiness is ruined. Her life 
is in peril." 

" Let me see the poor girl," he said, and I took him 
to Bessie's room. No doubt, fatherly and pitiful emo- 
tions stirred his heart as he saw Bessie lying there at 
death's door, and heard her moans and half articulate 
ravings. He groaned and wrung his hands, muttered 
curses upon Major Banks, and then strode away with a 
wild, angry look that frightened me. 

Mrs. White brought me some breakfast. She told me 
that she had expected some denouement like this, for INIajor 
Banks had seemed to her a very bad man, and very neg- 
lectful of his wife. 

Scarcely had I taken my breakfast, when I was again 
sent for to the parlor. This time the kind little ensign 
was waiting for me. He seemed much distressed. He 
said that "Major Banks had not been known in England 
to any officers of his regiment, he having exchanged into 
it just before they left England. Thus, none of them 
had suspected that he was a married man. His conduct 
was a disgrace to the British army and nation. He 
desired to help us in any way that he could. Thought 
that Banks should be ^called out,' would do it himself^ 
only his dying mother had made him take a solemn vow 
against dueling. He wished Nelson, Seaforth, Andre, or 
other of my friends were in the city to fight the major." 

I told him if a duel Avould be the result of their pres- 
ence, I was glad that they were gone. I thought duels 



402 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

very wicked, aiul should grieve that to his other crime 
Major Banks could add that of shooting one of my 
friends. In short, I told my young friend that he could do 
nothing for me, except try and secure me a pass home 
when I was able to go. 

The ensign then told me that Mrs. Banks, weary of 
long separation from her husband, had come to America, 
uninvited by him, in company with the colonel of a regi- 
ment ■which came over on the Tempest. This colonel's 
wife was with him, and was a friend of Mrs. Banks. 
This colonel had noticed that Major Banks had not 
seemed glad to see his wife, and had been in haste to 
remove her from the city, saying it would be unhealthful 
for the child. He had secured lodgings about six miles 
from the town, and had insisted on taking her there at 
once, until her friend, the colonel, had made some sharp 
remarks at his singular endeavor to hide her, and Banks 
had agreed to have her remain to a dinner that was to 
be given the twenty-fourth, to the review of the twenty- 
fifth, and go to the country the day following. 

I saw that the major's plan had been to put his real 
wife out of town, and hustle Bessie oif to Philadelphia 
with me ; for he had eagerly advocated her going to 
Mistress Seaforth. 

The ensign further told me that Mrs. Banks was quite 
ill from her distress at discovering her husband's iniquitous 
conduct ; and that the newly arrived colonel was about to 
lay the affair before Sir Henry Clinton ; he added that 
Mr. Warley's conduct had not been such as to render 
himself or his daughter greatly esteemed. The ensign, 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS ago: 403 

with further proffers of service, withdrew, and I went 
back to my post. 

As I watched Bessie, the loneliness of our position in 
this city of strangers grew upon me. Mr. Warley was 
rather a hinderance than a help to me. I concluded to 
send for Mr. Seaforth to come to me, and to ask the 
ensign to dispatch the letter for me. I sat on the foot of 
the bed in the darkened room, my hands on my lap, 
thinking what a help and comfort the home friends would 
be, until I almost seemed to hear their voices in my ear, 
and to feel their hands clasjiing mine. This impression, 
deepened by sleeplessness and sorrow, so hung upon me 
that when Mistress White's servant boy looked in, saying 
that I was wanted in the parlor, I started up, sure that 
some one had come from Philadelphia. 

Full of this idea, I rushed down stairs. I only half 
saw a group in the hall ; did not heed their exclamations, 
looks, calls to me. I darted across the passage way, fluHg 
open the door, feeling as if I should spring into my un- 
cle's arms. Oh, fearful sight ! I stumbled, almost fell 
upon a bier set down just within the door; a bier Avith a 
cloak thrown over it, not covering it, but leaving exposed 
the set, ghastly, dead face of Mr. Warley, with wide open 
eyes staring up at the ceiling, and a hole in the forehead, 
and a broad mark where blood had run down. I can see 
it still. I think I shall see it so long; as I live. 

The next thing I saw Avas sunshine, the snowy curtains 
of Mistress White's bed, the kind face of mine hostess 
bent over me. It had come upon them suddenly, she 
said. They had meant to tell me carefully. The boy in 



404 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



his excitement had called me to the parlor, and I came 
so quickly they could not stop me. 

Then she told we how it was. Mr. Warley in a frenzy 
had sought the major, and found him in a coffee-house. 




'i«.v 





\ERPLiNCk S POIM FI OM STON \ POINT LIGHT HOLSE 

He had challenged him, and the major had refused to 
fight. Mr. Warley then struck him in his face with his 
hand, and then with the butt of a pistol, and had insisted 
on fighting then and there. They paced off a short dis- 
tance, and Major Banks had seemed to mean to shoot 
above his antagonist's head ; but his hand and eye were 
uncertain from drinking, and the ball passed through his 
brain. 

They buried Mr. Warley ; sealed up his effects, and 
sent them to our lodging. The ensign, through the 
proper authorities, sent for ISIr. Seaforth, and he came. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 405 

On the 30th of May, Sir Henry Clinton sent an ex- 
pedition up the river to get possession of Stony and Ver- 
planck's Points. They succeeded without fighting. Major 
Banks was with the expedition. The army encamped 
on either side the river, and on the night of the 31st, 
a soldier, said to be cleaning his gun, and not knowing it 
to be loaded, shot the major through the heart as he stood 
at his tent door. Was it accident, private revenge, or was 
this the judgment of Heaven — death for death ? 

And so in the few weeks of my stay in New York, all 
this terrible change came. Bessie slowly rallied. Mr. 
Seaforth cared for us like a father, and on the 15th of this 
July we were able to return to Philadelphia, bringing 
poor Bessie to my uncle's house. 

Before M-e left New York, I was sent for to see Mrs. 
Banks. She was in widow's dress, and is going home to 
her father. She questioned me very kindly about Bessie, 
and I told her the whole story. It was only justice to 
Major Banks to tell how long he had lingered, seemingly 
uncertain about proposing marriage, and the fact seemed 
to comfort the poor soul a little. She shed tears over 
Bessie. Spoke of her beauty and girlishness, and asked 
had she friends. I told her my Uncle John's heart and 
fortune w^ere large enough for all demands that could be 
made on either; and so I left her, wondering how such 
an angel could have fallen to Major Banks's share, and 
how he could have so lightly esteemed her. 



406 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 



CHAPTER XVI. 

September 21, 1779. 
"P ESSIE'S affairs have drawn my attention away from 
public interests, but poor Bessie has now become a 
quiet daily care. She is very feeble in health, and much 
broken in spirits. She has no pleasure in dress and 
gayety which she formerly loved, and has no fondness for 
books or good works ; no solace in her trouble. But the 
tender sympathy of Mrs. Seaforth, the hearty piety of my 
uncle, and the strong courage and faith of Judith, must 
surely open to my unfortunate cousin a nobler life. 

General Arnold is still residing in our city, but not in 
command; when charges were preferred against him, and 
a court-martial was ordered, he resigned his position here. 
Since then, as nobody is now afraid of him, he is reaping 
the reward of his arrogance and extortion, for he is as- 
sailed with taunts and indignities, and lately he is followed 
i^ the streets by a mob. He asked Congress for an armed 
guard, but they declined, not considering him in danger, 
nor deserving of honor. 

The war has been this summer of a predatory charac- 
ter. Sir Henry Clinton has ravaged the shores of Con- 
necticut, and has burned, pillaged, and nearly destroyed 
the towns of New Haven, East Haven, Fairfield and 
Xorwalk. Plundering expeditions into New York along 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



407 



the Jersey coast, and to Maryland and Virginia, have dis- 
tressed our people, but have done little to weaken our 
cause, — serving only to arouse greater hostility, and a 
more determined ^ 

o p p o s 1 1 1 o n t o / ~^- ~<-^J 

Britain. 

On the 16th 
of July, General 
Wayne, called 
often " Mad An- 
thony," made a 
brilliant and suc- 
cessful attack on 
Stony Point, los- 
ing but fifteen 
men, and mak- 
ing nearly six 
hundred prison- 
ers. The coun- 
try rings with this exploit, and it is expected to make our 
cause stronger in Europe. Major Lee, the popular "Light- 
horse Harry," has also his spirited achievement to boast. 
He captured the fort at Paulus Hook, on the 19th of 
August, carrying off the garrison prisoners, but not 
attempting to hold the place, as it is within sight of New 
York, and within reach of the guns there. 

Speaking of names assigned to various heroes, recalls 
that given to our chief — ''The American Fabius" — for his 
cautious policy. Some complain of this policy, and want 
all risked at a blow ; but every year justifies the steady 




CiEXERAL ANTHONY WAYNE. 



408 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

self-command, the immovable decision of our Washing- 
ton, and my uncle says that future years Avill yet more 
grandly exalt his conduct of this war. 

On the ocean, Paul Jones is -winning laurels for our 
cause, and showing that America is no unworthy child of 
the nation, long called " Mistress of the Seas." 

General Washington is now at West Point, but has 
sent some troops south, as Georgia and South Carolina 
are now suffering all the most terrible evils of civil war. 
Plantations are ravaged ; citizens shot, hung, or chased 
into swamps ; the houses are burned, or turned into 
quarters for the enemy. The slaves are seized, and either 
set against their masters, or given to royalists. Laurens 
and Hamilton urge the arming of the slaves, and say 
that they could raise several brave and effectual reg- 
iments. 

In Khode Island the slaves were freed on condition of 
serving as soldiers, their masters being jiromised some 
compensation by the State. Uncle says that this M'as 
equitable in every Avay. If the slaves shed their blood 
for a country, they should have equal rights in it. They 
should not be slaves, but citizens, where they manfully 
risk their lives, and, as the State profits by their freedom, 
she should, according to her ability, pay the masters for 
the loss of their laborers. 

November IS, 1779. 

Rhode Island has been evacuated by the British, 
Sir Henry Clinton concentrating his northern forces at 
New York, and sending what regiments he can to the 
South. The war appears to be gradually leaving the 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



409 



Eastern States, where at first it broke out. When we 
were seeing in Massachusetts the desolation of war, it 
seemed to me as if the South was an earthly paradise of 
beauty, peace, and plenty ; where the people were as gen- 
erous as the soil and climate, and where no trouble could 




SUBSCRIPTIONS FOR THE CONTINENTAL ARMY. 

ever come ; now they are paying their price for freedom, 
as we have been doing here. The brave General Pulaski 
has been killed, and the French Admiral D'Estaing 
wounded. Savannah is in the hands of the British, and 
they are likely soon to have Charleston. 

Our army is said to be in a more desperate condition 



410 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

than ever for want of food, clothing and ammunition, 
while this winter promises to be bitterly cold. The 
soldiers are not regularly paid, and the currency is 
worth so little that it is of small use to them when they 
get it. Thirty paper dollars to one hard dollar is the 
rule now, and it is likely to sink lower than that. Mrs. 
Reid, Mrs. Bache, and many others are talking of re- 
newed organizations for relieving the wants of the army. 
They had a meeting yesterday at Mrs. Reid's, and we 
all went but Bessie. She spent the day Avith Annie Sea- 
forth. At the meeting Judith proposed that if funds for 
providing clothing failed, the patriot ladies should give 
their jewels and trinkets. She said that she was willing 
to give all hers, and that she was ashamed to be wearing 
valuable ornaments, while her countrymen in the field 
were destitute of shoes, coats and flannels. The other 
ladies approved heartily of her remarks, and said that 
they would freely make the sacrifice. 

When we came home Bessie told me that while she 
was at Mrs. Seaforth's, the Misses Shippen, sisters of 
Mrs. General Arnold, called. They are very indignant 
that the council has dared demand a court-martial for 
General Arnold, and say that it is just like the ungrate- 
fulness of pretended republics. 

A great sorrow came to us this evening. Charles is 
ordered to AVest Point. He has noAv been in the city for 
a long while, and is impatient to be on active duty again ; 
yet the order for departure came unexpectedly to him, and 
the thought of leaving us all, especially Annie, was a se- 
vere blow. Our house is thus a house of mourning. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 411 

April 3, 1780. 

This winter General Washington had his quarters at 
Morristown, hutted as before. The cavalry were sent 
into Connecticut. Mr. Reid called here before he went 
there with his command. I said to him that Hannah 
must be very grieved to have him leave her; but he 
replied that the only thing which could trouble her, was 
lack of supplies for her suflPering army lads. One of 
Mr. Pteid's company told my uncle that Captain Richard 
Reid had taken no pay since the war opened, and that 
twice he had disbursed his private funds to the men. 
Many of our officers do the same. I know that Charles 
does. How our army keeps together is the marvel of 
every one who understands the circumstances. 

Mistress Reid told us yesterday at the ladies' meeting 
for soldiers, that General Washington wrote to President 
Reid, that the army had never been in such extremity. 
Not only do the soldiers have the present need to bear, 
but they know that their pay will be worth nothing 
when they get it. Continental money is down to sixty 
to one, and even Congress reckons it forty to one. 

This winter has been terribly cold. The horses in 
camp here died from exposure and lack of forage. 
Hannah wrote to us that she had lost both hers; but 
uncle sent her word, to keep her courage up ; she should 
have horses or mules in the spring to draw that wagon, 
if he had to sell his house to buy them. We have gath- 
ered up three loads of stores, and sent them to Hannah for 
her sick soldiers ; but now when we beg for flannels or 
blankets or socks, people tell us their supply is exhausted. 



41 2 PA TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

My uncle has been twice to the camp. He says that 
the general is deeply distressed at being forced to im- 
press supplies froni the country to save his army from 
starvation. He gives the most earnest and touching 
charges to those who go out for corn or fodder, and the 
people in the main bear the imposition very well. 
Uncle has taken all that he could remove from his farm 
for the use of the camp. I told uncle, the other day, 
that in fifteen months I should be of age, and then I 
should give all my property to the army. He patted my 
head, saying : " Poor child, what a drop in this ocean of 
need your little heritage would be ! " Then he added 
more brightly : " Let us hope that the war will be over 
by that time. What will Judith and Susannah do, if 
peace is not declared, so that their Tory lovers may 
return ? " 

Mr. Morris and my uncle were talking yesterday 
about the army, and they said that Jersey could never 
be praised enough for what it has done. Drained as it 
has been of its wealth, by both parties, it has subsisted 
the entire army part of this winter, when deep snows 
have prevented provisions coming in from other States. 
So cold has it been since December, that New York 
Bay was frozen over, and the Hudson River had ice so 
thick that the heaviest artillery could be drawn across. 

My uncle w^as in the Jerseys in the coldest time. We 
feared greatly for him. He told us, when he returned, 
that wherever he went the women were spinning, knit- 
ting, weaving, sewing, robbing themselves to furnish out 
the soldiers ; and that he had been in some houses where 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 413 

the fire on the kitchen hearth never went out, and a 
great kettle hung over it all the time, with meat, por- 
ridge, or vegetables in it, and every passing soldier was 
warmed and fed, " Now," said my uncle, " this shows 
a fixed principle. We must oppose here the power of 
endurance and' self-sacrifice to the pov/er of wealth and 
warlike equipments, and I am more and more convinced 
that a new separate life has awaked in this nation, and 
that the only end of this war will be recognized inde- 
pendence." 

The trial by court-martial of General xVrnold has 
proceeded, and the sentence was merely for a reprimand 
by the commander-in-chief. All Mho know General 
"Washington and his regard for the bravery of Arnold, 
know that his reprimand Avill be the lightest and most 
courteous that could possibly be given. We hear now 
that General Arnold proposes to leave the army, and 
establish a colony in north-western New York. 

June 2, 1780. 

Again I have been from home. My uncle was about 
to go to Morristown on the 10th of April, when we had 
a letter from Joseph Dana, saying that Hannah Avas 
very ill, and had been removed to a farm-house, and 
asking for some needful things to be sent to her. My 
uncle concluded to take me to her, and Judith having 
pre])ared various comforts for an invalid, we set out. I 
found Hannah more in need of sympathy and nursing 
than of medicine, and devoted all my time to her. The 
farm-house was a lonely place about two miles from the 
camp, its sole inhabitants being an old man and woman, 



414 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

a little ])lack girl, and an enormous mastiff. The three 
sons of the family were in the garrison at West Point. 
Josej^h Dana got leave, while Hannah was at the worst, 
to sleep at the house, but he took his breakfast and went 
to the camp at day-break. 

I felt the house lonesome after living in the city. The 
old lady was deaf and feeble, and spent most of her time 
in bed, and my sole consolation was the dog, a fierce brute, 
the terror of strangers; but the creature took a great fancy 
to me. It was about the 20th of April, when Hannah 
had began to amend, and the weather was very fine, when 
our farm became the scene of some excitement. Early 
one morning old Mr. Ray went off to a distant field; 
his wife was in bed, I with Hannah, and the little black 
girl was in the kitchen. This girl came to me with a very 
gay kerchief, saying that a peddler had given it to her 
for a breakfast, which he was then eating in the kitchen. 
She was obliged to go to the barn to feed the calves, 
and wanted me to go to the kitchen until the stranger 
departed. I rebuked her for letting people of this sort 
into the house, but seeing no help for the matter now, as 
the man was said to be quietly eating, I agreed to go 
down. 

It seems that he had asked the girl if there were any 
men in the house, and she had told him no. Feeling at 
ease, therefore, he had left his pack with a pistol laid 
upon it in the shed, through which he had entered the 
kitchen. I liad been sweeping Hannah's room, and went 
down with a kerchief tied over my head, a broom in one 
hand, and my other hand in the collar of my friend, the 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 415 

mastiff. Not liking to stand gazing at the traveler, I con- 
'elucled to behave as one of the household and proceed to 
sweep the kitchen, which might also be a hint to him to 
depart. 

He did not notice me particularly, but as soon as I fixed 
my attention on him, I recognized certain peculiarities of 
head and neck which belonged to "Spy Brown," and no 
other. He had been in the camp, and might be making 
off with information which would ruin the few thousands 
gathered there. To cover my anxiety as I pondered what 
to do, I kept sweeping, the dog close by me ; and sweep- 
ing along by the door where his pack and pistols were, I 
pushed it shut. He turned about from the table and 
looked squarely at me, standing with my back against the 
door; at that moment I felt no terror. If I had his pistols 
in my hand, I would have ordered him to surrender. He 
recognized me, and saw that I knew him. 

"With a great oath he said : " It's parson Temple's girl ! " 

"1 know you, Brown," I said. 

He stepped toward me. My dog growled ominously, 
his eyes blazed, his fangs showed, and every hair on his 
body seemed to bristle up. Brown halted, ran his eye 
over the table, only one knife there, and that a dull old 
thing. He said : 

"See here, girl, I don't mean any harm to yon, come 
away from that door, and I '11 go ; but you must go on 
your knees and swear that for twenty-four hours you will 
not hint of me or my name to a living being." 

"I will not swear such a thing," I retorted, slipping 

mv hand out of my dog's collar. 
27 



416 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Brown gave another oath. " I believe you were in my 
being caught before. I heard some whisper about a girl. 
You've got the Temple eye, keen as a razor — it's your 
life or mine; if I must throttle you or blow out your 
brains, be it on your head." 

The leuffth of the room had been between us. He 
made a dash toward me, but as he did so, my dog with 
a roai- rather than a growl, hurled himself into the air, 
— Brown whirling about to escape those red, gaping 
jaws — and leaping forward as he turned, the dog came 
upon his bent shoulders, and slipped down his back, his 
nails making a tearing along Brown's coat, and his teeth 
snapping. 

My enemy's coat had a short, stiff pair of tails, for ho 
Avas dressed as a jaunty trader, in a blue coat with gilt 
buttons. As he had whirled about the tails of his coat 
stood straight out Avith the motion, and upon these tails 
my dog's teeth closed as he slid down his foe's back. 
Brown is tall and strong, the mastiff grasped the coat with 
all his strength ; and his paws, searching for a holding, 
found it in the seat of Brown's breeches. Brown's turn 
had set him facing the front door of the kitchen, and out 
of that he tore like a madman, going over the field with 
long strides, and still the dog held on. The fences had 
mostly been turned into fuel for the camp. I ran to the 
door, and as far as I could see, I beheld Brown, hatless, 
tearing over the fields, the dog whirled after him on 
two legs, sustained by the grip he had on the coat and 
breeches. 

I dragged the abandoned pack into a closet and locked 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 417 

it in. I took the pistol, ran to the barn, and bid the girl 
leap on a horse, ride to camp, and bid Joseph Dana and 
some other soldier ride out to me in haste. She at once 
seized the idea that Hannah was dying, and made that 
report to Joseph. I locked up the house, kept the pistol 
in hand, and spent my time in going from window to 
window to see what was coming. No Mr. Ray, no Joseph, 
no dog, no peddler. Finally, a beat of hoofs, and I 
opened the door for Joseph ; hardly had he got in than 
a panting sound Avas heard, and in bounded the mastiff*, 
covered with sweat, and laid at my feet — a pair of blue 
coat-tails. 

Evidently he had returned when the long resisting tails 
had given way, and let him down on all fours. He 
wagged his tail in triumph over his plunder, and I fell 
on my knees and hugged his big ugly head, and kissed 
it with all my heart. 

I told Joseph the story, so he took the pack and the frag- 
ment of coat and hastened back to camp, leaving me with 
dog and pistol to defend myself and the house. Scouts 
rode oflP on all hands among the heights to capture the 
fugitive, but toward the end of the afternoon Joseph 
Dana and two others — one of them on horseback — return- 
ing from a bootless search along the edge of a ravine, 
found Brown, who had somewhere got a carter's frock 
to cover his impromptu jacket. Unhappily he had also 
obtained a pistol, and he fired upon his pursuers. The 
ball entered Joseph's arm, shattering the bone above the 
elbow. Joseph being now helpless, his two companions 
undertook to bring their prisoner to camp. Brown unex- 



418 PATRIOT AND TORY : 

pectedly closed with one of them and flung him down, 
and the other seizing him, Brown struck him in the face 
with a knife. 

The two sokliers were now furious, and decided to 
hang their prisoner on the spot. They took the bridle 
from the horse, and having pinioned Brown's arms behind 
him with a handkerchief, hung him on a tree over the 
steep edge of the ravine. They were in too great haste, 
happily or unhappily, for no sooner had they swung the 
wretched man off, than the tree limb gave way, and he 
went crashing down into the ravine. Down went the 
soldiers after him, clambering over the steep sides as well 
as they might — but no Brown was to be found, and so a 
second time he made his escape from merited death. 

Joseph Dana was brought to Mr. Ray's farm, and we 
thought his wound not likely to be serious. But one dif- 
ficulty after another followed to hinder the healing, and, 
wlien on the 15th of May I came home with my uncle, 
Hannah being quite well, we brought Joseph to be put 
under Doctor Binney's care. Joseph, once the gay, bold, 
vain, generous, hearty young man, the secret pride of the 
old deacon's heart, is now a worn, thin, anxious, resolute 
soldier; and more than that, alas! — to-day without his 
right arm. For Doctor Binney's best eiforts failed, and as 
the only means of saving life, the amputation was per- 
formed this morning. Joseph is here in our house. 
Uncle was with him during the operation. His only re- 
gret seemed to be that he must leave the army ; and so 
if he recovers now, his parents will have him back. 

Three days before T left Mr. Ray's, the camp was filled 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 419 

with joy at the return of the Marquis La Fayette. He 
came the bearer of good news. French troops and a 
French fleet, arms, ammunition, and camp equipage M-ere 
coming to us. The Marquis hastened on to Philadelphia, 
and when I reached home the city was in a joyous com- 
motion, because of his arrival and the good news. 
General Arnold was in the city at the same time ; his 
project about western New York has not succeeded, and 
he wanted to rejoin the army. 

On the 25th of INIay, a mutiny broke out in camp — 
some of our poor fellows getting desperate with the pri- 
vations of their situation. It is not the open field, but 
the tortures of camp, with poor food, shelter, clothing, 
and no pay, which is wearing out our men. The general 
quelled the disturbance in his masterly manner, and he 
wrote to Mr. Reid for instant help. The president, 
council, and legislature sent what aid they could, and our 
ladies' association came nobly to the rescue. Some of us 
brought the last silver in our purses, and many sold 
trinkets and jewels. 

Our committees went about the city begging whatever 
could be turned to use. Hester and I were on one com- 
mittee for begging, and we got all manner of articles. 
Continental paper, French silver, rings, spoons, overcoats, 
sheets, shirts, and towels, blankets, and webs of linen; 
the whole city seemed inspired. A black woman, named 
Phillis, gave her hard-earned seven and sixpence, and the 
Marquis La Fayette, in the name of his wife, brought a 
hundred guineas in specie, and the Countess de Luzerne 
gave us six thousand paper dollars, equal to one hundred 



420 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

in hard money. ^"\Ve prepared twenty-two hundred shirts 
— twenty shirts were made at our house — Bessie, Nervey, 
and the chambermaid sewing with the rest of us. 

JfLY 12, 1780. 

On the eighth of this month, Joseph Dana was able to 
return home to Plymouth. Hannah came from camp and 
remained a week with him. I had thought that she 
would go home Avhen he did; but no, she says that now 
she understands her work, and will not leave it. The day 
before Joseph went away, I had a letter from Deborah 
Samson. I had not' known that there was so much ten- 
derness in her nature as this letter showed. She knew 
how my heart clings to that old home, and she had 
visited the dear spot, and told me exactly how it looked; 
what flowers were blooming; what birds haunted it; 
where the great-grandfather's oaken chair stood; what 
crops throve in what fields; how the neighbors spoke yet 
of my grand-parents, and how the graves in the church- 
yard were tended ; and she sent me some leaves from the 
big apple-tree. 

She is now at Mistress Hooper's. Isaiah has not been 
heard from, but one from that regiment, who returned home, 
believed Isaiah to have been captured by the Indians, 
and a captive who had escaped, said he fancied he had 
been sent to the Shawnees. Mrs. Hooper is heart-broken, 
and believes that she could more easily have borne the 
news of his death. Indeed, Deborah's description of the 
fatherless household is verv touchin":. She said she found 
her services greatly needed. Xo one questioned her 
about her absence, only there is a rumor in the neigh- 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 421 

borliood that she had run away and married an English 
soldier. At the close of the letter she said, " I do not 
repent of what I did ; but it was a terrible hour to me, 
when I felt that my course was condemned by such men 
as Dr. Binney and by our general. No words can ex- 
press my gratitude to hh)i for his silence. I stood before 
him overwhelmed with shame and confusion, and he 
spoke not one word to add to my distress; but his letter, 
though short, was full of the noblest advice. It was a 
compensation sufficient for my years of service." 

The heat has been very great in the city this summer, 
and Judith and Hester have been away for a visit. 
They returned on the 9th, and yesterday Susannah and I 
came out to Mistress Logan's to spend a week. This even- 
ing a little before sunset, I went out by myself, and pass- 
ing through the garden to the brow of the hill overlook- 
ing the creek, I wandered about the little burial-ground. 
This burial-place lies above the Logan vault, and that is 
a spot which has a sort of fascination for me, I know not 
why. 

Going down the steps at the hill-side, I went to the iron 
grating doo"r of the vault, and looked into the damp, dark 
cavern. It has not been entered for some time ; the slabs 
which seal up the burial recesses are moldy, and from the 
hooks in the arch great chains of cobwebs droop to the 
floor. Standing thus, I heard near me a sound like a 
sigh, or groan, and turning, I saw an Indian with folded 
arms, and rifle laid at his feet, leaning against a great 
maple which stood near. His hunting-shirt and leggins 
were stained and frayed ; the jaunty fringes and the moc- 



422 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

casins were in tatters. The dark, sad face was that of my 
old friend Ta-ga-jute. 

I held out my hand to him, " Welcome, Logan ! " 

He took my hand with a grace which might have be- 
come Colonel Nelson. 

He said, " The word is sweet to a lonely heart." 

" You have come from far, Logan," I said. 

" Logan has no home, and no rest," he rej^licd. " My 
people are at Detroit. Cornstalk is with the Shawnees, 
at Scioto. The cabin which was plundered is desolate. 
Ta-ga-jute has come to look upon the grave of Shikelli- 
mus." 

His words gave me a good thought. 

I said, " \Yhen the women and the children were 
killed, then the chief knew what it was to be desolate 
indeed. . But sometimes the women and the children sit 
and w^ait for one who never comes. There is no hand to 
bring bread ; no arm to protect. The mother and her 
babes sit alone, and the Indians keep the father prisoner." 

He roused himself and said : 

" Ls it true ? What does the maiden wish ? Have 
any of those many friends been taken captive?" and he 
looked quizzical at the words " many friends." 

I told him, then, of Isaiah Hooper in his home. 

He remarked, " He was happy ; the earth gave him 
food ; he loved the Great Spirit, and hated firewater." 

I continued the story, telling about the departure for 
war. 

He said, " He was brave ; his heart was strong." 

I told him of the dismal captivity, the man dying 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 423 

and starved, who would not give his w^ord to fight no 
more. 

He shouldered his rifle in enthusiasm, crying, " He 
was true. Where is Logan's white brother?" 

I replied, " He is captive in a Shawnee town. No 
more can he see his wife ; no more bring bread to his 
children. Logan knows what it is to have a lonely 
cabin. What would Ta-ga-jute do if his squaw or his 
child had been taken captive ? Now let Logan find his 
white brother." 

" It is done. The maiden sets me a good work," he 
said, " and I will search the Shawnee villages and the 
other tribes for the captive before I come again to the 
grave of my father. But the way is long. The maiden 
must wait many moons before the captive is led back, or 
Ta-ga-jute comes to tell her that her friend is gone to the 
Great Spirit. Ta-ga-jute goes to-morrow." 

I promised him a reward if he brought back Isaiah 

Hooper. I described the man to him; impressed his 

name upon him ; and to keep him in mind, I broke a 

little gold chain that I wore, and made him a ring of 

part of it. So now I hope that to-morrow help may be 

on the way to friend Hooper, if indeed, after so many 

trials he is living. 

July 18, 1780. 

Mv visit at Mrs. Logan's was shorter than I had antic- 
ipated. The day after my last writing, Logan set off for 
the West, early in the morning. At breakfast Mistress 
Logan spoke of some purchase which she washed made 
in the city, and I offered to ride in and do the errand 



424 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

for her. I set off at once, before the day became hot, and 
went first to our own house. I was standing in the par- 
lor, talking with Judith, when we heard the noise of 
wheels, and Susannah, running to the window, announced 
Hannah Dana's wagon. 

Hannah herself came in immediately. She had come 
to the city with four patients, wounded at the battle of 
Springfield, June 23d, when Knyphausen last invaded the 
Jerseys. The four patients promised to be long ill, and 
Hannah, at the request of the surgeon, brought them into 
Philadelphia for care at the hospital. But one, she said, 
was an old friend of ours, and since my uncle had told 
her that our house was always open to the M'ounded, she 
had brought him to us for especial attention, if possibly 
we might save his life. We bade her bring her patient in, 
and without stopping to ask his name, Judith called for 
Pompey and Peter to come and carry him to the bed-room 
on the first floor, which she made haste to throw open. 

The sufferer was carefully laid in the bed, Hannah re- 
marking that moving him had been, in her opinion, a 
mistake, for he had grown worse. She then threw aside 
the kerchief, which had been over his face, and I saw 
that here was Mr. Bowdoin ! I resolved not to return to 
Mistress Logan's, but to do my part as nurse for our old 
friend; and I begged Susannah to do Mistress Logan's 
errand, and ride out there to finish my interrupted visit. 

Hannah Dana was greatly grieved about Mr. Bowdoin; 
so long as they were together in camp, he had done so 
much to aid her in work among the wounded, that a strong 
friendship had sprung up between them. Having been 



02^E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 425 

with the army in the Mohawk VaHey, he had returned 
with a company to West Point, and had been sent thence 
to New Jersey, just in time to be present at the battle of 
Springfield. His wound had occasioned fever, and the 
fever had now attacked his brain. Hannah said it was 
at his own urgent request to be brought to my uncle's, 
that he had been moved from the neighborhood of Spring- 
field. 

Mr. Bowdoin remained unconscious until after Han- 
nah's departure. Bessie was staying with Mrs. Seaforth. 
She is very feeble and unhappy, singularly restless — some- 
times we think she is going into a consumption. In the 
evening I went over to Mrs. Seaforth's and told her about 
Mr. Bowdoin. Nothing would do but she must see him. 
As he was insensible, it could do him no harm, and I 
took her to his bedside. She stood there crying passion- 
ately. I felt deeply pained for her, and tried to comfort 
her. She would not return to Mrs. Seaforth. 

Mr. Bowdoin continued unconscious until the morning 
of the 16th. I was sitting by his bed early in the morn- 
ing, when he opened his eyes and called me by name, 
adding : " This is kind, to be my nurse." I gave him his 
medicine and some nourishment, and that day we hoped 
he was improving. Bessie wanted to see him, but we 
feared to permit it. In the afternoon he began to speak 
to me of Bessie, and to my utter amazement I found that 
he had never heard of her marriage, and believed her 
still to be with her father in New York. He spoke 
fondly of the letters which she had written him from 
that city, and of his hope that when the war ended they 



426 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

M-ould be married. He asked if I thought Mr. "Warley 
would continue his objection to the marriage. I said 
"no/' but begged him to be quiet until he was better. 
Presently he slept for an hour^ and wiien he woke he 
asked me such a question about Mr. Warley, that I was 
obliged to say that Mr. \Yarley was dead. 

He said: "Oh, my poor Bessie, what will she do?" 

I prayed him to be calm, saying that my uncle had re- 
solved to treat her as a daughter, and that she had been 
staying with good Christian friends. This composed him. 
About eight a change came over him; we sent for the 
physician, and he told us plainly that Mr. Bowdoin was 
dying. Mr. Bowdoin felt this himself, and beckoning to 
me he said softly, that I must take a message "for his 
Bessie;" if he could have seen her, he would be content. 

I said, "Mr. Bowdoin, you can have your wish. Bes- 
sie has come from her friend to my uncle's. She is here. 
I Mill bring her to you, but she is much changed, she 
has been ill." 

I then went to Bessie, and told her that Mr. Bowdoin 
wanted to see her. I said, " Bessie, he does not know that 
you M'ere married. He thinks that you have been true to 
liim. He is dying. You must control yourself, or you 
will hasten his death. Let him die in peace." 

Then I took her to the room. Uncle and Judith were 
sitting there. Mr. Bowdoin lay with his eyes fixed on 
the door; when Bessie entered he smiled joyfully, and 
held out his hand. Bessie fell on her knees by the bed, 
and hid her face. 

He stroked her hair, saying: "My dear girl, I must 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 427 

leave you. I had hoped for better things, but God is 
good that I may see you at hist, and bid you good bye, 
aiid know that you have not forgotten me, my Bessie." 

Bessie sobbed wildly, that '' she could never, never for- 
get him." 

" Then let us meet in heaven, my Bessie, where all 
these our sorrows and partings M'ill seem like dreams of a 
night. I have always trusted you, Bessie. I know you 
were true to me," 

"Oh," murmured Bessie, "if I could only be good like 
you, and hope to meet you again ! " 

He drew her head toward him, and softly spoke some 
words of religious instruction and comfort to her; then 
he begged her to be calm, while my uncle should read and 
pray with him. 

Uncle John stood at the bed's foot, and read the four- 
teenth chapter of St. John, and then prayed. When the 
prayer was ended, INIr. Bowdoin looked around on us 
all, and feebly waved his hand as in farewell. Then he 
took Bessie's hand in his, and with a last eifort, said: 
"Good-bye, Bessie." He had died believing in her! 

Poor Bessie, when she knew that he was gone, burst 
into the most piteous lamentations — "Oh, why was I so 
blind, so foolish, so wicked! Oh, but for me, we might 
have been happy now, and you might be living! Why 
can not I undo it all. If I only had back the past." 
And so she raved, clinging to that dead hand, which 
living she had despised and rejected. "He believed in 
me ! he loved me ; the only one in all the world who 
ever really cared for me ! " 



428 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Thus she raved, and Juditli and I could not quiet her. 
Finally we got her to bed, and by day-light she fell 
asleep, sobbing in her dreams, and looking so pale and 
so pitiful that I only could compassionate her, and forget 
her wrong-doing. Surely she has suffered for all the 
wrong that ever she did. I went for Mrs. Seaforth, who 
always can comfort Bessie better than we can, and she 
staid with the unhappy child all next day. 

Uncle buried Mr. Bowdoin in our own family cemetery 
on the river side, above the city. We laid him there 
to-day about sunset. Mr. Bowdoin was a man alone in 
the world. He had no relatives, and, being of a reticent 
nature, few friends. Without any ambition but to be 
good, he would gladly have spent his whole life laboring 
among my grandfather's old people. His love and trust 
were entirely fixed upon Bessie. I sit now thinking 
what a good and peaceful life hers might have been, if, 
unallured by worldly follies, she had married him that 
pleasant spring-time when he and she were together at 
Plymouth. And whose fault is it that Bessie was so 
willful, so vain, so false? Surely she learned nothing 
else from her father, and the girl was motherless ! 

I said to Uncle John to-night: "Why must p(X)r Bessie 
see so much more trouble than Susannah or I ? " 

He answered : " The children of the Covenant come to 
the Father by a straight and pleasant path. There are 
others who, through much tribulation, enter the kingdom 
of God. Through all these woes and Avanderings, God is, 
perhaps, teaching Bessie the insufficiency of the world to 
make her happy, and is answering in His way your 
grandmother's prayers." 



OyS HUyDRED YEARS AGO. 429 



CHAPTER Xyil. 

October 20, 17S0. 
rPHE presence of La Favctte in the spring, the arrival of 
-^ the Count Rochambeau with troops a little later, and 
th6 promise of further succor, have somewhat revived the 
spirits of our people ; but still our condition is desperate. 
Supplies for the army are -wanting ; the money is value- 
less ; much of the summer General "Washington has had 
but three thousand available troops; Congress and the 
general differ about the conduct of the quartermaster's 
department, and General Greene has resigned. The 
success of the British in Georgia and the Carolinas has 
been most disheartening to us. If they complete the 
conquest of the South, and when peace is declared are in 
a position to dismember our colonies and retain the 
southern land, many will feel as if we had obtained but a 
poor price for our long-continued struggle. 

General De Kalb was mortally wounded in the battle 
of Camden, and on August 16th, Sumter and Gates were 
routed. The Tory element is very strong along the 
southern seaboard, and the depreciation of the currency 
there is fearful, owing, my Uncle INIatthew writes, to the 
British having found means to throw an enormous quan- 
tity of counterfeits of the currency into Virginia. My 
Uncle John says that our present weakness is owing to 



430 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

the lack of organized unity between the States ; there is 
no powerful central government, but really thirteen dis- 
tinct bodies, thirteen armies, thirteen ways of raising the 
taxes, thirteen governments, thirteen heads — and have we 
one, thirteen, or no body politic? This lack of unity has 
demoralized and reduced the army, and has been the true 
reason why "Washington's favorite project of an attack on 
New York could not be carried out. Another of the 
distresses of the summer has been the ravaging of north- 
ern New York by parties from Canada. The counties 
whence our general expected supplies of corn, have been 
destroyed ; Forts Anne and George arc captured ; villages 
are burned; the Indians are out in force. 

But by far our saddest loss, our bitterest disappoint- 
ment, our greatest danger of this summer, has been one 
upon which I have dreaded to touch, even in this journal. 
On these pages I have written of much that is patient, 
true, self-sacrificing, heroic ; now I must set down treason. 
We all feel ready to say Avith our general : " Whom now 
can we trust?" America has learned a new word for 
traitor; the word is, Arnold. 

About the beginning of August, Arnold obtained com- 
mand of West Point, our most important port. He 
pleaded desire to save his country, and inability to walk 
or ride because of his wounds. Yet during this time he 
was in correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton, bargain- 
ing for a high price for the betrayal of his country. The 
loss of West Point, its dependencies, its forces, and stores, 
would have been the death-blow to our canst, ndw when 
aifairs in the South go so badly. Our former acquaint- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



431 



ance, Andre, had been made major and adjutant-general 
of the British forces. Unhappily Andre was the officer 
chosen to treat with Arnold. 

Arnold's quarters were at the Robinson House, Bev- 
erly. Arnold agreed to seize a 
time when the commander- 
in-chief, with the main body 
of troops, would be below 
King's Bridge to co-operate 
with the French in an attack 
on New York. Arnold would 
surrender his post with almost 
no resistance, claiming that he 
had not force sufficient to hold 
it. 

Havinp; sent to Washington 
for help, Arnold would SUr- scene of Arnold's treason. 

render before reinforcements arrived ; and the com- 
mander-in-chief, drawn from his attack on New York, 
must be surprised by his victorious enemy. Arnold had 
in a feigned name and hand carried on a correspondence 
concerning this treason. His price was to be money and 
a brigadier-generalship in the British army. The en- 
deavor was to obtain a meeting with Andre under a flag 
of truce, on pretense of business relating to confiscated 
property. General Washington would not consent to the 
flag, and Andre came up the river on the ship Vulture, 
and effected a meeting with Arnold, as he supposed, unth- 
out the American lines. 

The terms of the treason were a«[reed upon. When 
28 "^ ^ 




432 



PA TRIOT AND TOR F.- 



Andre found that he could not rejoin his ship that night, 
next day she was forced to drop down the river, and 
Andre was left on shore, and obliged to seek New York 
by land. General Clinton warned Andre not to disguise 



^' . Jpii'^f^^ 




THE ARREST OF MAJOR ANDKE. 

himself nor carry any papers. He disobeyed both orders 

at the instance of Arnold, putting on a disguise over his 

uniform, and carrying in his boots papers relating to the 
treason. 

Arnold charged Andre to take the inner route to New 
York by White Plains. Andre, about six miles below 
Croton, left the road by White Plains, and took the high- 
way from Albany near Tarrytown. Here about noon, as 
he proceeded to the city, believing himself quite safe, he 
was captured by three good Americans, who formed a 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 433 

self-constituted guard to the highway. He offered one 
hundred guineas, or any money they might ask, if they 
would send him to New York. The men were incorrup- 
tible. On the evidence of the papers and his hidden uni- 
form, they recognized him as a spy, and took him to 
Colonel Jameson. 

He was allowed to send letters to Arnold at the Rob- 
inson House. Mistress Arnold and her infant had been 
there from Philadelphia but a fcM- days, and on the 
morning of September 24th, General Washington and his 
suite were to be there at breakfast. They were late. 
Arnold and his family sat down to eat, and as thev were 
at table, the messenger from Andre entered. Arnold saw 
that he was discovered. He called his wife aside, told 
her the story, and leaving her insensible, he fled through 
the Highlands, and taking his barge and hanging out a 
white flag, reached the British ship Vulture. Another 
messenger reached Washington in the afternoon at West 
Point. Arnold had escaped, but Andre was less fortu- 
nate. Taken as a spy, but one fate awaited him. He 
was executed the 2d of October. 

It was a sad day for us when the news came. We re- 
membered with interest our gay and gifted friend ; so 
young, enthusiastic, and thoughtless. What a fate was 
his! We thought of his mother and sisters of whom he 
had spoken to us, and we shed many tears for them. 
Andre had not intended to come inside our lines; he had 
not intended to assume a disguise, but he had done both. 
Court-martials deal not with intentions, but with facts. 
No man ever entered an enemy's territory with more 



434 PATRIOT AND TORT: 

hostile intentions than Andre. He came, hoping to work 
our entire ruin. He desecrated a flag of truce, and told 
complicated falsehoods; at the same time he was the un- 
happy victim of a most false, cruel, and unscrupulous 
man. 

Some thought that Mistress Arnold was a party to the 
plot, but Charles, from whom, as now stationed at West 
Point, we learned all the circumstances of this terrible 
business, says that evidently the treason was as much of a 
surprise to her as to any one. General Washington sent 
her under passport to her father at Philadelphia. As soon 
as she arrived here, she concluded upon a separation from 
Arnold. Why she desired this is a question. She has 
seemed to be fond of him, and he is marvelously devoted 
to her. Is the idea of leaving her friends too bitter ? Does 
she think his prospects are ruined, or does she resent the 
death of Andre, formerly a great friend of hers, and her 
knight at the Mischienza. 

The executive council here ordered her to leave the 
State within fourteen days, and not to return during the 
war. She and her father agreed to give pledges to have 
no communication with Arnold, if she might stay, but 
they insisted upon her leaving, and she is gone to 'New 
York. So pretty Margaret Shippen is gone from Phila- 
delphia. But lately we have had a greater loss. Mistress 
Reid is dead ; many cares and labors destroyed a naturally 
delicate frame. She died on the eighteenth of last month, 
and all the city mourned at her funeral, for she was 
greatly beloved. There has been no purer and more ar- 
dent Patriot than this young English woman, only a 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 435 

few years a resident in this country ; her time, her means, 
her affections, all belonging to the land of her adoption. 
Bessie went with us to the funeral. It was the first 
time she had left the house since Mr. Bowdoin's death. 
She seems improving in health this autumn ; but there is 
a far greater improvement in her spirit. She does not 
seem like the same Bessie. I believe that she is growing 
like Mrs. Seaforth. 

November 10, 1780. 

It is a long while since Susannah has heard from 
Colonel Nelson. Letters frequently come to the city 
from officers in the British army, but for months not a 
token from the colonel. My uncle thinks that he has 
gone to England, or has forgotten Susannah, or that in 
New York his fancy has fixed on some other beauty. 
He said to Judith the other day that he wished he had 
sent Susannah out of the city as soon as the colonel 
began to pay attention to her. Judith, like the rest of 
the ladie.^, seems inclined to put confidence in the 
colonel, and says that if he is living she is sure his 
silence will be explained. But in war time, if he is liv- 
ing means a great deal. 

I have been very sad this some time. I am sure 
Thomas Otis is dead- It is many months since we heard 
from him. Still, that was not so very strange, as he is in 
northern New York; but about a week ago, a major, 
who had been with General Van Rensselaer, came here ; 
my uncle brought him home for the evening. He told 
us that on the 19th there had been a sharp battle at 
Fort Keyser, and more than forty had been killed. He 



436 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

helped bury the dead the next day, and he described 
finding a young man with light curling hair, blue eyes, 
and a fair face, lying dead, and in his hand a paper and 
a lock of fair hair. Oh, I know, I know, that was Thomas 
Otis, and that he died thinking of me. 

I was near the door, and when the truth of this ter- 
rible story came upon me, I stole out and ran up to 
my room and locked myself in, and I cried all night, 
thinking of poor Thomas, and the merry days we spent 
in Plymouth, and that he is dead, and that there is no 
one to mourn for him but me. He had no mother or 
sisters; no one cared for him — unless I did — and indeed, 
I too was forgetting Thomas. I did not miss him while 
he was away. I did not feel anxious for him to come 
back, as Judith does for Henry. I was not unhappy at 
not hearing from him, as Susannah is about the colonel. 
Oh, how cold-hearted and ungrateful I am, while Thomas 
was true to me, and died thinking of me, and with my 
token in his hand ! 

I did not tell any one about this. Judith would say 
that I was not sure that this was Thomas, and Hester 
would talk to me about him, and accuse me of not caring 
enough. But I can be true; and a soldier who died for 
his country, and thinking of me, shall not be forgotten. 
Once, when I was in Plymouth, I liked Thomas more 
than any one, except my two grandfathers. I could not 
be expected then to like any one more than them ; but — well 
for a year or two I have not thought so much of Thomas, 
and I have had an idea that other people might be nicer, 
and that I might possibly like some one else better than 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 437 

I did my grandfather — and such a poor patriot I am, that 
while Hannah can go into the camp, and give her money 
and her very life for her country, and Deborah can take 
a musket and fight, I am so selfish that I was forgetting 
one who never forgot me, and who was giving his life for 
the cause of freedom. 

Yes, Thomas was a true hero ; he always was ; and a 
hero shall always be remembered. I can not get this 
idea of my dead friend out of my mind; we neither of 
us thought of such an ending when we Mere talking in 
the lanes between the clover fields, or rocking in the 
boat on Plymouth Bay. Thomas expected to do great 
deeds, and rise to be a general, and save the country. 
So I suppose many others dreamed. Perhaps Warren 
and Montgomery had such thoughts, and yet how soon 
they fell. 

I have been feeling so sad over these things that I 
looked sad, and I could not tell any one why. I felt 
it a duty to be sorrowful. It was all the amends I could 
make for having thought less of Thomas than he did of 
me. Judith thought I was ill ; uncle declared that half 
the life of the house was gone, and he began talking — of 
all things! of Richard Reid — and it made me angry. I 
will never think a thought of Richard Reid again, he 
never cared for me as Thomas did ; of course he cares 
for Hannah, and he ought to, she is much better than I. 
True, he asked me for a lock of hair too, but I know he 
would have lost it. Thomas kept his, and cared for it, 
and held it in his hand when he died. 

Hester said that I left her alone to keep the house 



438 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

bright, and that she Avould die of doing double duty, but 
no wonder she can be gay. Thomas Otis will never 
be any thing to her. Well, yesterday, I wanted some- 
thing in Susannah's room, and knocked at the door, and 
hearing no answer thought that it was empty and that I 
might go in. But Susannah was there, only she had not 
heard me. She was sitting on the floor crying over 
something that lay in her lap. At first I meant to go 
away, then I could not bear to leave her alone, and so I 
ran and knelt down by her to comfort her. She had in 
her lap the colonel's picture and ring. 

"Oh, darling Susannah," I said, putting my arms around 
her, " I did not know that you felt so ; you keep so cheer- 
ful before us all." 

" It would be wrong for me to burden the others with 
my troubles," said Susannah, "we all have Charles to be 
anxious for, and Judith has her care for Henry, and 
father is always lonely for my mother, and so I must be 
as cheerful as I can, for their sakes." 

Her tears was still falling over her treasures. I said: 
" Keep up your heart, my darling, he will surely come 
back." 

" He must be dead, or I would have heard," she sobbed. 

" Mv uncle savs — unless he forffot," I said. 

"Why, he could not forget ?7ic," said Susannah; "could 
I forget him? No, he has been killed," she cried, bit- 
terly. 

Well, I tried my best to comfort Susannah. I told her 
that maybe he was wounded, and would come back well ; 
perhaps he had been taken prisoner or unexpectedly sent 



I 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 439 

home. How was it about Isaiah Hooper coming out of 
prison that time, long after his wife believed him dead? 
There Avas always hope, unless there was the fact of death ; 
and so I comforted Susannah somewhat, and she made me 
promise that I would not tell how I had found her griev- 
ing. She would not add to the family sorrows, she said. 

This rebuked me for my own indulgence in my feel- 
ings. I had made a duty and virtue of sorrowing, but 
Susannah's example showed me "a more excellent way," 
and I know that Susannah truly is far more unhappy 
than I am, for she has thought of her colonel every hour 
in the day since he left. Yes, there is a time when 
private sorrow must not be made too much of. Uncle 
says that we have fallen on evil days, but the evil days 
must come, and there must be a generation to suffer in 
them, and then all that remains for us is to be firm and 
patient, for the world's sake. These times are no harder 
than the covenanters saw in Scotland in my great-great- 
grandfather's time, nor worse than the days when the 
Puritans came from England in those first bitter years of 
the colonies, nor indeed are they so bad as the times of 
religious persecutions in the valleys of Piedmont, and the 
trials of the French Protestants, and the cruel hour of 
Saint Bartholomew. 

I think of what the apostle says, that " no temptations 
have overtaken us but such as are common to men." Uncle 
was talking to us about that last Sabbath morning at 
prayers. Bessie was with us. She is part of the time here, 
and part Avith Mistress Seaforth ; and that morning, as she 
listened to uncle, she said : 



440 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

" But, oh, sir, sometimes your troubles are of your own 
making, and then they are harder to bear ; " and she leaned 
her head on my shoulder and cried. 

My uncle said kindly, " Dear child, God will make a 
way of escape even from them." 

I remember my grandfather had in his study a motto 
of which 'he was fond, though he told me it came from a 
heathen poet, named Virgil, "God will give an end to 
these evils also." 

January 21, 1780. 

Winter is always the hardest time for our troops and 
our cause. The camp breaks more hearts and destroys 
more lives than the field. The general has but few troops 
with him this winter. He has sent Colonel Lee south 
with the best cavalry. General Gates has been severely 
judged for his losses in the South, has been removed from 
command, and General Greene has charge of the Southern 
Department. General Gates has retired to Virginia, where 
General (the Baron) Steuben is now in charge. 

General Washington has persuaded Congress to send 
Colonel Laurens to Paris to ask a loan. Without such 
help, Robert Morris says that he does not believe that 
we can sustain our cause. General La Fayette said lately, 
" Human patience has its limit, no European army would 
suffer a tenth part of the cold, hunger, and nakedness 
which the Americans endure. It takes citizens to sup- 
port toil, neglect, pain, utter want of pay for the sake of 
their cause and country." 

Yes, this is so, but the endurance of citizens comes to 
an end sometimes, especially if their government treats 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 441 

them with stupidity, treachery, or injustice. We have 
had a sample of this. The Pennsylvania troops are 
again hutted at Morristown. Many of them had not 
gotten even a paper dollar for a year, and their rations 
were short, poor, or altogether wanting. The term of 
their enlistment expired, and Congress, dreading to lose 
soldiers of three years' experience, misconstrued, boldly 
and wickedly, the terms of enlistment. To crown all, a 
quantity of gold, destined for the army, was given, not to 
the veterans, long unpaid, but to six months' recruits, to 
pay them for enlisting for the war. And after all, as 
usual, it was the M'hisky that did it — that " thief in the 
mouth that steals away the brains." Our soldiers, on 
New Year's, got too much whisky and too little of every 
thing else, and so, between their wrongs and their liquor, 
they mutinied. 

The Pennsylvania line turned out en masse to march, 
under conduct of their sergeants, to Philadelphia, and 
demand from Congress decent treatment. General Wayne 
is beloved by them, but could not control them. There 
was an affray, in which several were wounded and killed 
on both sides — of these, one captain. Thus, thirteen 
hundred strong, with six field-pieces, they set out for 
this city. General Wayne sent two officers to warn Con- 
gress, and then with two colonels put himself among the 
mutineers, and marched with them, a sort of honorable 
prisoner. General Washington dared not leave his posi- 
tion on "the Hudson, lest his troops should mutiny, or 
Sir Henry Clinton should rush out of New York and 
seize the Highlands. Clinton, by means of his spies, 



442 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

heard of the mutiny, and sent emissaries to the camp of 
the insurgents, offering them any thing and every thing 
if they would come over to him. Then he prepared his 
troops on Staten Island, ready either to fly at the High- 
lands if Washington left, or join arms with the insurgents 
if they acceded to his proposals. 

In this city we were in a state of horror. All seemed 
lost. On went the mutineers to Princeton, and en- 
camped. President Reed and a delegation from Congress 
spurred oif to Trenton, to offer a redress of injuries. As 
affairs were in this State, Sir Henry's envoys arrived full 
of hope ; but they had reckoned without their host. The 
mutineers' rage at Congress did not make them in love 
with Britain. They were Americans, if they were insur- 
gents ; so, deeply offended at Sir Henry for thinking they 
would all turn '^Arnolds" they put his envoys in irons. 
Hearing this. President Reed made one of his grand re- 
marks, which sometimes come up from the depths of that 
quiet and often seemingly timid and irresolute heart : " I 
have but one life to lose, and my country has a right to it." 

So off" he went to Princeton, sole representative of the 
obnoxious government. President Reed was prepared to 
make concessions and redress wrongs. He agreed to take 
a just view of the enlistments ; to furnish clothes and 
arms at once; to give certificates of arrears of pay; to 
pay as soon as possible ; and to give forty days furlough 
to all who desired it and would re-enlist. This satisfied 
the troops. They agreed to return to duty ; and as a sign 
of their feelings, they at once hung those two unfortunate 
envoys or spies at the cross-roads. I am so sorry for 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 443 

those men. Probably somebody cared for them, and they 
were not fit to be hurried out of life. Oh, me, if they 
had only stopped at home ! 

March 26, 1781. 

Robert Morris and his wife have been here to tea with 
some other friends. The aifairs of the country engrossed 
all the conversation. Mr. Morris and my uncle think 
our prospects are brighter. They spoke of the French 
loan, and say that we are poor just because our resources 
are not organized and properly managed. Mr. Morris 
says that we are really richer than France, and yet we 
borrow of France. Our revenues from cotton, rice, sugar 
and tobacco, should be great. We have unlimited wheat 
and corn lands. What we need is unity. It is time, said 
Robert Morris, to show the world that a monarchy is not 
the only sign of unity ; that a republic can be a unit ; 
there can be liberty, law, successful administration, with- 
out kings. And now we have hope of all these, for at 
last Congress has yielded to Washington, and has ap- 
pointed Secretaries of War, State, and Finance. 

On the 5th of February, Witherspoon of New Jersey, 
and Burke of North Carolina, made proposals for vesting 
taxing power in Congress, and this led the way to further 
discussion of " Federal union," and on the first day of 
March we had a grand historic day indeed, for Maryland, 
the last of the thirteen States, signed the Articles of Con- 
federation, making our country one forever. But, after all, 
my uncle says, confederation is not union, and the States 
must move on to such a union as our general urges upon 
them, or there will be a lack of strength and stability. 



444 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

We have had a letter from Uncle Matthew Temple 
from his plantation on the James River. That terrible 
traitor Arnold has been ravaging Virginia, which is this 
winter almost defenceless. Baron Steuben has been 
obliged to send off most of his forces to help General 
Greene in Carolina, and has only about six hundred men 
left, and these are nearly destitute of tents, blankets, 
clothes and arms. Uncle Matthew and some other gen- 
tlemen have been on an expedition begging supplies for 
the camp, and he says what they obtained was pitiably 
insufficient to the need. Generals Greene, Gates, and 
Steuben have warned the Virginia gentlemen to send 
away or sell their horses, or they would serve to mount 
the enemy, and furnish him with a formidable cavalry. 
Only a few have done so. My uncle is one who has sent 
his horses into western Pennsylvania ; he says he has now 
in his stables only three aged hacks. 

Arnold captured some vessels and came up the river, 
plundering, burning, and destroying every thing. My 
uncle and other planters who had tobacco warehouses in 
Richmond rode into the city. Arnold sent word that, if 
they would peaceably load his ships with tobacco at the 
wharves, he would spare the town. He did not know 
the high spirits he had to do with. The gentlemen re- 
plied, that they would burn wharves and warehouses first; 
and so Arnold came up, cleared the town, pillaged the 
houses, and burnt the public edifices, shops and ware- 
houses with the tobacco. 

Uncle says that from the hills about the town, where 
the Virginia gentlemen and the militia had retreated. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 445 

they could hear the drunken orgies of Arnold's soldiers. 
Virginia, thus ravaged, must for the present be unhelped, 
for the cause demands the army in the Highlands and 
the Carolinas; and so the Virginians are coolly sending 
their men and stores south, suffering themselves to be 
ravaged, and are waiting for the day when they can 
avenge themselves in some glorious victory. 

There have been two chief battles in the South this 
wanter; that at Cowpens, on the 17th of January, wdiich 
was a victory for us, and the battle of Guilford Court- 
house, of which we had news by a special messenger to 
the city this very morning, and where we suffered a de- 
feat, and the victory of the British was as bad as a 
defeat for them. Lord Cornwallis is in command of the 
British forces in the South, and it is said that General 
Greene has been leading him a fearful and perplexing 
chase. Arnold still holds his place around the mouths 
of the York and James rivers, doing what harm he can. 
There is one comfort, the British do not like him any 
better than we do ; they detest his mean treachery and 
avarice, and the officers do not like to serve under him. 

Henry Seaforth wrote to Judith that no honorable 
officer of any rank whatsoever was willing to serve 
under Arnold, and that his company was every-where 
shunned. Henry also tells his mother that he is expect- 
ing soon to be made major; and Mr. Seaforth had a letter 
from Henry's colonel, speaking most highly of him, and 
saying that he was universally popular. I do not wonder 
at that, Captain Seaforth has his mother's sweet, gentle, 
gracious ways, and his father's honest, brave, unaltering 



446 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

faithfulness; while in person we girls have decided that he 
must be like those goodly Saxon knights of the days of 
chivalry. As we sit at our sewing in tlie mornings, and 
by chance talk of our friends, we often become enthusi- 
astic about Henry, for he is kind as a brother to all of us. 
Judith says nothing, but sits listening with a smiling face. 
Henry sent a letter to Judith with the one that came to 
his mother. He is heartily sick of the war. He says to 
all intents and purposes the end is clear, and that further 
fighting Avill but be an expenditure of blood and treasure, 
and of many brave lives with no visible change in the 
result. England can not hold America unless by Amer- 
ica's hearty assent. 

Well, that is all true ; but then Henry looks at some 
things in his light and not in ours. He says that the 
country north of the lakes and the St. Lawrence must 
belong to Britain, because it so prefers. I daresay that 
is so. We can not hold Canada against its consent, any 
more than England can hold us. But Henry goes further : 
he says that Virginia, and all south thereof, is England's 
by conquest. It is in possession of the king's arms, and 
must be held by him; and that a peace should be made, 
giving the colonies all between Virginia and Canada, 
west to the Mississippi, and England taking all the rest, 
except what belongs to France and Spain. 

That is the way Henry, as a British officer, regards it ; 
but we Americans will fight longer before we consent to 
such a dismemberment. What ! give England all our 
fruit, rice, sugar, cotton and tobacco lands ? Why that 
would be to yield the very fairest part of our possessions. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 447 

Virginia is our foremost State in point of wealth, com- 
merce, population ; and a Virginian is at the head of our 
armies. And just because Virginia has sent her troops 
North and South, as the best means ultimately of defend- 
ing herself, and Arnold has ravaged the country, it is 
held to belong to Britain by right of conquest. Evi- 
dently the war is not ended yet if the British army 

holds such views. 

May 1, 1781. 

The 1st of April we had a visit from Captain Richard 
Reid. He had been all winter in Connecticut with his 
company, which are cavalry, and was on his way to West 
Point, where the general is. Hannah Dana is at ]\Iorris- 
town. Richard told us that there were three great oper- 
ations before the commander-in-chief, to succeed in either 
of which would go far to finishing the war. These were, 
an attack on New York and its capture ; this accomplished 
would bring our enemy to terms at once. The seizure 
of Arnold and the rout of his forces at Portsmouth ; this 
would have a most salutary effect in Europe, where they 
expect us to conquer our traitor, and it would arouse the 
enthusiasm of the army ; and lastly, the defeat and eaj)ture 
of Cornwallis and his army, which would be about as ef- 
fectual in closing the war as the conquest of Clinton, for 
the defeat of Cornwallis would restore to us the South, 
and rob our enemies of nearly half their army. 

All these achievements have been attempted. The 

failure of the French fleet to combine with our land 

forces has hitherto hindered the two former plans, and 

the country yet looks to General Greene to combine with 
29 



448 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

further northern reinforcements and effect the last. 
Richard Reid said that he followed war from duty, not 
from preference ; he would that an end Avould come, that 
he might conclude his theological studies and follow the 
profession which he had first chosen. He spoke eloquently 
of the joys of peace, of the happiness of home life, and of 
the honor and reward of pastoral work. 

He preferred being with me, which is natural, as we 
were old acquaintances ; but what is strange, he paid me 
very particular attentions sometimes, and said words which 
went l)eyond compliment. He has no right to speak so 
to me when Hannah is away, and I have fully made up 
my mind to be true to the memory of Thomas Otis, 
because he was true to me. I rebuffed Richard right 
sharply once or twice, and he was both hurt and offended. 
Judith saw it, and she asked me why I so rejected Rich- 
ard's attention. I said truly that they belonged to Han- 
nah Dana, and that I would not rob her behind her back, 
and she in the army. Judith lifted her eyebrows at that, 
and remarked that she thought Richard regarded Hannah 
as a sister. Now I do not see why that saying of 
Judith's was pleasant to me. But it was, and I was so 
angry with myself for such a fickleness, that I was hardly 
civil to Mr. Reid so long as he remained. I would not 
allow myself to be agreeable. 

Mr. Reid went away in three days. The spring came 
on pleasantly. By the end of the month we had doors 
and windows open. Then such a delightful thing haj)- 
pened only three days ago. We were at tea in our din- 
ing-room, which is at the end of the loM'cr hall. Nervey 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 449 

had just gone from the room with an empty tray, when 
we heard her shriek, and the tray go crashing down into 
the basement, and Nervey scuttling pell-mell after it. 
We looked, listened. Uncle sprang up. There M'as a 
soft, patting noise in the hall, the dining-room door was 
pushed open, the steps had been of moccasined feet, there 
stood Ta-ga-jute in a brave's dress — fringes, paint, feathers, 
and the broadest kind of a smile ; and behind him, in 
Indian garb, brown, lean, thin, Isaiah Hooper, come to 
life once more ! 

Ta-ga-jute paused to greet no one, he gripped Isaiah 
by the arm, marched him over to me, and, radiant with 
pleasure, said : 

"Ta-ga-jute has done his errand; see, maiden, my white 
brother is before you." 

AVell, there was a shaking of hands and a congratula- 
tion, and Nervey was persuaded to return with more 
plates and provisions, and my uncle made Isaiah and 
Ta-ga-jute sit down with us, and my Indian would sit 
by me, and imitate all that I did. 

After tea Ta-ga-jute must away to the Logan House, 
where he had not stopped as he came into the city ; and 
then Isaiah told us his story. He had been w^ounded 
and captured by the Indians, and carried to the Shawnee 
towns by a band of Cornstalk's braves. The first idea 
was to kill him; then an Indian woman claimed him for 
her husband, as her Indian had been killed. Isaiah was 
offered his choice betAveen the wife or death, and he 
elected to die. But this Indian woman had an enemy, an 
old squaw, who was completely delighted at Isaiah's re- 



450 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



jection of the wife, and she came forward and claimed 
him as a son. Isaiah agreed to be her son, and as she 
was very old, he had plenty to do to wait on her and 
provide for her. 

The Indians conceived qnite a liking for him, chiefly 




THE LOGAN HOUSE. 



because he was religious, kept the Sabbath, asked a bless- 
ing on his food, and sang hymns. Often he had all the 
camp in a circle around him while he sang. Once he 
escaped, but was recaptured and threatened with death if 
he did so arain. He was closely watched, and had de- 
spaired of ever getting home, when Ta-ga-jute came to 
the Shawnee town, and after a few days had a private 
talk with him, found he was his man, and persuaded 
Cornstalk to give him up. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 45 1 

Isaiah had been divided between desire to go home 
for a visit, and to regain the army. Logan would let 
him do neither, but brought him straight to me. We 
expected that Isaiah would now go home; but no, he 
wrote to his wife, refitted at my uncle's expense, and in 
two days he set off for West Point, resolved, as he says, 
to stand by the cause of the Colonies — or rather of these 
States — until either he dies, or they are completely victori- 
ous. He says he gave himself heart and body to the 
cause, and he will stick to that cause so long as Wash- 
ington does. When peace is declared he will be the 
happiest man alive, will hasten home, and desire never 
to go six miles from his own door-stone. 

There would be no mutinies if all soldiers Mere like 
Isaiah. He has had no pay ; no clothes ; starvation 
rations; has been a prisoner, dying on New York liulks; 
has been several times wounded ; has been captive to 
the Indians ; has not seen his family for six years ; and 
he scorns the idea of retiring from the service so long as 
the country needs one arm raised in its defense. And 
once I wondered if heroes were left yet in this world, 
and if plain men like Isaiah could be heroic! How hun- 
grily he listened to the news of his wife and children 
which I read him from Deborah's letter. He has gone 
to camp. I wonder if Judith is right, that Richard only 
regards Hannah as his sister. 



452 -P^ TRIOT AND TOR Y. 



I 



CHAPTER XYIII. 

May 28, 1781. 

T seems as if I had lived all my life since the last writ- 
ing in my journal. I have thought I could not and 
would not write down this terrible thing that has come 
to pass, but after a long while Judith tells me the pain- 
ful impression will wear off, and then I shall be glad that 
I have written this out while all was fresh in my mind. 
Uncle and the rest say that I am nervous and prostrated 
by excitement, and all that, but I will not yield to my 
feelings and trouble all the rest. I will be like our 
Susannah, of a quiet courage. Well, but this is not my 
story ; I see that, as is usual with me, I am " writing 
around " what is painful. 

No sooner had Mr. Reid got to camp than he came 
back to the city on some business for the cavalry which 
would take him about a week; of course he came here, 
as uncle has always bidden him do. Uncle Matthew was 
here at the same time, and Uncle Matthew is always 
thinking of some pleasure for us. The weather was good 
and the roads splendid, and Uncle Matthew had some fine 
horses with him which he had brought up from Virginia, 
and he proposed that we should have a riding party up 
the river where the scenery is very fine. We set out — 
Mr. Seaforth and Judith, Uncle John and Hester, Uncle 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 453 

Matthew and Susannah, and Mr. Reid and I, about one 
o'clock on a fine afternoon. 

All went pleasantly. Just as we were about turning our 
horses toward home, I saw a drover with several good 
cattle near us, and I laughingly pointed them out to 
Richard, telling him it was a pity they were not near 
camp where meat is always a-wanting, that he might drive 
them in. Just then Richard said that he had heard of a 
French settler, an excellent saddler, who lived about 
two miles further up the river, and that he would com- 
bine business and pleasure by going up to speak with 
him, and he asked my uncle's leave for me to go with 
him. As we parted from the rest, I looked back and 
saw that the drover, who had been sulkily regarding us, 
put his cattle in a jfield and struck out for the river. "We 
rode rapidly to the Frenchman's. Richard engaged him 
for some work, and we turned homewards. 

Richard said we must go more slowly, and he rode near 
me, and began to talk of when the war would be over, and 
of Plymouth, and asked me if I never felt that I would - 
like to be in the old place again. Xow he knows per- 
fectly well that I prefer that rocky old coast to any spot 
in the world, but I would not say so to him, and I felt 
vexed with him, as he intends to return there some day; 
and I said more sharply than truthfully, that my Uncle 
John's house was better by far, and I would be very 
foolish ever to think of leaving a place where I had no 
trouble, and every thing was done to please me. 

Richard remarked, "that however pleasant the early 
home was, young maidens sometimes thought it well to 



454 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

go in a home of their own when some one desired it 
very much." 

I tossed my head, saying, "Those were the silly girls 
who did not know when they were well off; that once 
Judith and Susannah were married, if we could but get 
Hester to be as foolish, my Uncle John and I would 
have the peace of our lives, with ourselves and our 
books." 

Eichard rode along looking here and there as not very 
pleased, when all of a sudden he dashed his horse across 
the head of mine, pushing mine back with his arm. The 
two horses reared, there was the crack of a pistol, a bullet 
flew whistling over my head, and Richard fell upon the 
road between the horses. I sprang from my horse and 
bent over Mr. Reid, striving to lift him, but that I was 
quite unable to do. The two horses drew quietly aside — 
good beasts — and I tried to tie up with my kerchief a 
wound along Richard's head. He looked dead, or just 
dying, and I bent over him crying and mourning, and 
looking for sign of life, when some one dragged me up 
by the waist, and I found myself in the clutches of the 
drover — Brown, the spy. 

"Curse you," he cried, "that bullet didn't do its work, 
but I swore I'd kill you, and I will." 

" Let me go ! " I screamed, " you have killed him ! Let 
me go." 

" I saw you point me out to him," he said; "you've been 
the means of my failing twice before. I'm not safe so 
long as you're on the earth. No thanks to you that the 
limb broke that they hung rae on." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 455 

He began dragging me through the bushes to the high 
cliffs on the river side, crying: 

" Water will do it, if the shot missed." 

I seized the trees and bushes in my terror, and he tore 
me from them, blood streaming from my cut hands. I filled 
the air with shrieks. It seemed hours that he AVi'.s pull- 
ing me toward that cliflp; and I can see now, when I close 
my eyes, all the world as it looked to me then — the liroad 
sunlight on the road, the horses with heads down, looking 
at Richard lying dead in the road, the new summer green 
of the woods, the blue skies; and though my heart had 
seemed to die when Richard fell from his horse, the 
instinct of life was strong, and I screamed for help, and 
clutched at the brushwood, so that Brown had all he 
could do to drag me backward to the cliff. I felt then, 
that my last hope was to clasp him closely. I whirled 
round with all my strength in his grasp, and seized 
him about the waist, locking my hands behind him. "We 
were close to the precipice — he cursing, I screaming, and 
the struggle engaging all his strength of rage and mine 
of despair. I saw nothing, heard nothing, but suddenly 
a great bronze arm came over each of my shoulders, and 
two huge, dark, wiry hands clutched Brown's throat. At 
once the ruffian's grasp loosened from me, and he strove 
to work his hands between me and himself. 

"Hold his arms, girl!" hissed a voice in my ear. 

Helped by the clasp of the yet unseen friend, I got 
first one arm and then the other clasped over Brown, who 
had evidently striven to get a knife from his bosom. A 
horrible moment! I was held between the two combat- 



I 



456 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

ants, and nnder the grip of those dark, firm hands. 
Brown's face grew purple, his eyes and tongue protruded. 
The voice cried : 

" Slip from between us, girl ! " 

I struggled from that grasp of death, and Ta-ga-jute 
held Brown on the verge of suffocation. I screamed : 

" Let go, let go ! you will kill him ! " 

A dark look swept over the Indian's face like a flash 
of lightning, his hands fell from his adversary's throat to 
his waist, and before I knew Avhat he meant, he caught 
the half senseless Brown from the earth, and hurled him 
sheer over the cliff. 

I gave a cry of horror, but the deed was done. The 
doomed wretch crashed into the dark water. One second 
he rose before my horrified eyes, and then the current 
bore him down and under, and out of my sight. 

" You have killed him," I cried. 

"There you would have been," said Ta-ga-jute, pointing 
to the river, " and there is your brave ! " He pointed to 
the road. I waited no other word, I dashed back 
through the trees and undergrowth, the Indian close be- 
hind me. Richard lay as before, motionless in blood 
and dust, but I fancied as I sank on my knees by him 
that \'i\^ eye-lids quivered. Ta-ga-jute took up Richard's 
hat, and dashed off toward a small creek that wound 
tov/ard the river near us. He was back in a moment, 
water streaming from the hat. He went again and again 
for water to dash on Richard's face, and after one of his 
excursions treated me to a shower also. 

Finally Ricliard opened his eyes, but lay looking at 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 457 

me for a long while in an uncertain way. At last, rec- 
oUeotion seemed to return, lie said : 

" Safe, thank God ! " 

Then from my excitement I began to cry wildly over 
him, and he clasped my hand, saying : 

" Poor little girl ! " and closed his eyes. 

Ta-ga-jute was a rough-and-ready doctor. He shook his 
patient out, searching for injuries ; ran his finger along 
the wound on his head, and said : 

'' Hoh, won't die." 

His grunt sounded like music to me. Then he set me 
on my feet, smoothed my disordered dress, and brushing 
off the dust with a kindly touch, said : 

"Poor girl — pretty near a kill — pretty much scared." 

Then he put me on my horse, bidding mfe "be brave 
awhile," and supported Richard with himself on the other 
horse, and so we crept along for a mile to a farm-house. 

It was sunset. The people seemed to know Logan, 
and knew my uncle's name. They Avere very kind, and 
asked few questions. The farmer got out a cart, laid 
hay and a blanket in it, and put Richard on it, and I sat 
beside him. Tlie good woman had bound up Richard's 
wound, and gave him a little currant wine, and me some 
milk and bread. Then Ta-ga-jute took the horse by the 
head, left our two horses with the farmer, and in this 
fashion we got into the city, and by good fortune it was 
dark when Ave reached the houses. 

My uncle's family were all in a great fright about us. 
They put their patients to bed and sent for the doctor. 
I was quite ill for two or three days. When I got better 



458 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Judith told me that Mr. Reid was able to go about his 
room, and in a fair way to be soon well. Tiie ball had 
passed along the side of his head, cutting the scalp, with- 
out penetrating the bone, but producing insensibility. 
He had seen the pistol aimed from behind a tree at me — 
had dashed before me to save me, and the motion had 
deranged the assassin's aim, and the ball had made this 
close miss of cntcrino; liis brain. As soon as Cousin Ju- 
dith had told me these things, I began to cry like a great 
baby. 

"What is the matter?" cried Hester. 

" I 'ra glad, so glad ! for poor Hannah Dana's sake, that 
he was not killed," I sobbed. 

" Tuts," cried Hester. " I 'm glad for his own ; he is 
as much too good to be killed by a spy as Thomas Otis 
is to be killed by an Indian. Sure, enough have been 
shot this war without them." 

There it was. Hester did not know what I did, 
that Thomas was dead, and had died thinking of me. 
I could not tell them without telling all the story about 
that, and I did not want to. To be sure, Richard had 
offered his life for mine. Thomas Otis could not do more 
than that ; but then there is Hannah. I asked after Ta- 
ga-jute. He had brought home our horses next day, and 
told Judith that he was going to Detroit. 

The fate of Brown much oppressed me. It was so 
awful to see him die, and he so wicked and unfit, and 
then I thought of his family. I shall write to Joseph 
Dana, and ask after the family, and tell him that Brown 
is dead, and if the wife and children are in need I will 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 459 

send some money for them. When I fall asleep, I see at 
once Brown strangling in the Indian's hands, or flying 
over the cliff to the swift water, or Richard lying in the 
road. Somehow I could not get over that scene. Mr. 
Reid got well and went away. I did not see him, but he 
left kind messages with Judith. Uncle Matthew returned 
to Virginia. My Uncle John kept three of his horses 
for him, and we are now going near Trenton for the 
summer. Bessie wants to stay here with Mistress Sea- 
forth. Uncle John thinks I need change after the shock 
of this excitement, and he has hired a house of one of his 
friends. It is on the river above Trenton, and we shall 
go there quite soon. Uncle says the pure air and out-of- 
door life and exercise will do all of us good. 

June 20, 1781. 
This is a charming spot, and we are enjoying our sum- 
mer wonderfully, although there are drawbacks to our 
happiness. Susannah hears nothing from the colonel. 
He was South, m'c learned long ago, and many have been 
killed there in skirmishes and nameless fights, and many 
a brave man of either side has been buried in the Southern 
swamps. Charles is with General La Fayette — therefore 
in a i^lace of danger; and frequently when we are out in 
the pleasant fields, along the bright banks of the river, or 
seeking flowers and mosses in the bird- haunted woods, 
there comes to us a thought of the danger that is about 
the . only son of the house — a vision of the battle-fields, 
and scattered wounded or unburied dead, that checks all 
our mirth, and we each know the thought of the other, 
although we do not speak. I fancy Judith is quite at 



460 PATRIOT AND TORY : 

rest about Henry, because he is now in New York, and 
there is little prospect of fighting there. 

We had a letter from Uncle Matthew. He says that 
the persistence of Virginia gentlemen, in keeping their 
blood horses in their stables, has accomplished the fore- 
warned result. They have been the means of mounting 
the enemy so well, that nothing possessed by our army is 
a match for them. Greene, Cornwallis, La Fayette, 
Tarleton, Morgan, Butler, maneuver, maraud, march, 
countermarch, skirmish, advance, retire, and fill the 
Southern scene of action with such a stirring and swiftly- 
changing picture, that wdiat is done and undone can 
hardly be understood. There is talk of peace negotia- 
tions, and we have strong hopes of returning home in the 
fall with the certainty that there shall be no more fight- 
ing on this continent for these present years at least. 

August 10, 1781. 

Yes, peace may come, and when that glad news spreads 
abroad, I think we, of all others, shall know what it has 
cost ! We are once more at home, but have come not as 
we went forth, nor as we had hoped to return, Avith glad- 
ness of heart. How well it is, as often, my grandfather 
said to us, that God hides the future. It Mas well for us, 
when those peaceful days drifted on in golden brightness 
and summer gain, that we did not know what was to come 
on that pitiful 21st of July. I remember that I was 
reading on the porch overlooking the river. Judith and 
the other two girls were in the sitting-room, in the back 
of the house. My uncle, as was his wont, strolled up and 
down bv his bee-hives. A horseman — his horse all foam 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 4(31 

and trembling with fatigue — clashed up to the gate, just as 
my uncle reached it in his walk, and handed him a note. 

Uncle John is one of those prompt men who never 
waste a minute, a word, a thought. He threw open the 
gate, and as the man sprang from his horse he led it 
briskly toward the stable, crying, " Peter ! Pompey ! " to 
the two who were picking fruit in the garden, and pass- 
ing the milk-house pushed open the door, and evidently 
ordered the stranger to drink what he would. I leaned 
from the porch to watch. In one moment my uncle and 
the servants were putting saddle and bridle on one of our 
fleet horses. At once he led it out. The messenger had 
finished drinking. As he mounted uticle added a line to 
the note, returned it to him, pointed down the lane. The 
man put spurs to his steed, and was off like the wind, on 
the Philadelphia road, in five minutes from his coming. 
Peter and Pompey were fiercely busy in the stable, and 
my uncle was by me. 

"Abbey, Henry is mortally wounded. Get on your 
riding-dress." 

He passed down the hall, and I followed in a daze of 
horror. Hester was reading aloud. Susannah, once our 
idle one, but now desperately busy, was sewing. Judith 
leaned back in her chair in a sort of liappy muse. My 
uncle stepped up to her, took her face between his hands, 
kissed her forehead, while his tears fell on it, and said : 

" God help you, my poor girl ! " 

She knew all he could tell her, and rose up white and 
silent. My uncle said : 

"Susannah, get your sister her habit. Hester, make 



462 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

up a bag for her/' and in an instant, in a terrible silence, 
we were preparing for our journey. Preparation did not 
take many minutes — not ten. The horses were at the 
door. Uncle lifted Judith to the saddle. Pompey had 
waited on me. Peter held the gate open. Uncle cried, 
" Girls, see to the place " — and we three were rushing 
madly up the road to Princeton. 

It was five o'clock or thereabout when we started. 
My uncle had shouted to Pompey to have a horse ready 
in the early morning for Mr. Seaforth. At Princeton and 
at New Brunswick he gave the same order; and so we 
flew on, first through the red sunset light and then in 
clear white moonshine, sparing little our good beasts; 
and before midnight we were entering Matouchin. 

A man stood watching on the highway. He called to 
my uncle, "Are you for the British officer? — this way," 
and we followed him up a country road for about half a 
mile to a great stone barn. All was silent. The large 
doors were open and two lanterns hung within. As my 
uncle lifted Judith from her seat I saw a woman sitting 
on a truss of hay, and bent to watch a prostrate form. 
In a moment we were within. A soldier boy, weary on 
his watch, slept with his head on his knees, a wounded 
man tossed in an uneasy slumber in a corner. The sleep- 
less watcher was Hannah Dana, and she had spared no 
pains to give a look of easy rest to Henry Seaforth, by 
whom she sat. Hannah rose up, but did not speak. She 
moved away as Judith fell on her knees, and tearless laid 
her face against Henry's neck. Hannah had made a 
comfortable couch of hay, and covered it with a white 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 463 

blanket, borrowed from tlie farm-house. She had cut off 
Henry's coat and boots, jilaced him in a restful position, 
covered him partly with a sheet, and bathed the dust of 
battle from his face and hands, and from his beautiful 
fair hair. He looked like one " taking of rest in sleep," 
breathing and unconscious. As we stood by him in too 
great awe and anguish to speak, Hannah said : 

"God is good. He has known no pain — not even 
when struck. See the peaceful expression of his face. 
The ball is in his brain, and he fell unconscious at once. 
Most die immediately of such a wound. I believe God 
spared him for vou to jret here." 

"Will he live until his father comes?" whispered 
Uncle John. 

" Perhaps," said Hannah ; and then my uncle drew her 
aM'ay to the door, and we went and stood in the moon- 
light, to leave Judith alone Avith her love and woe, and 
to hear from Hannah how this thing had come about. 

She told us that as nearly as she could learn from the 
wounded prisoner in the corner, Captain Seaforth and his 
company had landed from Staten Island at the instance 
of some royalists who lived on the Jersey shore, and who 
had collected a drove of cattle to send into the city. 
Captain Seaforth and his men were to cover the embarka- 
tion of this live stock. While it was taking place they 
were attacked by a strong party of Jersey militia, and 
these being repulsed, retreated, but succeeded in captur- 
ing a first lieutenant, a close friend of Henry's. Gallantry 
and affection drew Henry in pursuit to regain his friend. 

In the skirmish, the lieutenant got back to his companv, 
30 



46-4 ■ PATRIOT AND TORY: 

but Henry was left for dead, one or two wounded. The 
militia were reinforced and drove back the British, com- 
pelling them to leave their M'ounded on the field. The 
leader of the Americans was the owner of their farm 
and was wounded, with several of his men. All the 
wounded were gathered with equal care, and carried to- 
ward Matouchin. Hannah heard of the skirmish, as she 
had been on her way to the vicinity of West Point, and 
she had turned aside to care for the wounded, meeting 
the returning militia. 

She had recognized Henry, and had him and the other 
British removed to this barn, believing it quite as com- 
fortable as the small and crowded farm-houses already 
receiving the American wounded. Knowing where we 
were, she had bribed a messenger to make haste to my uncle's 
house, and he had gone oif at full speed before noon. 
Having told this story, Hannah went to visit her patients, 
bathed the head of one, gave another water, arranged a 
better pillow for a third. Henry alone needed no care. 
She then drew a shawl about her, and throwing herself 
back on a pile of hay, was soon asleep. The moonlight 
fell over her. She looked so white, and worn, and old, 
her cap coming closely about her thin face. And what a 
tireless courage ; what a full self-sacrifice ; what a heart 
of sympathy had been in all her speech ! 

Judith sat by Henry, holding his hand, her eyes never 
turned from his motionless face. I knelt by her, and 
put my arms about her. She only said : 

" O Abbey, if he could speak but one word more to 
me ! " 



OXE HUXDEED YEARS AGO. 465 

. What a night that was. I think if people look back 
over their histories, they will wonder how almost every 
bitter crisis of their lives, every conflict and victory of 
death, every trembling horror, and terrible loss came in 
the night. Perhaps this is why we are promised " no 
night there," no more this hour and power of darkness 
that has been made bitter to our souls. 

Hours went by like years. My uncle kept pacing up 
and down on the green sod that came to the very door, 
sometimes softly coming in, looking tearfully at Henry, 
laying his hand on Judith's head, as in prayer and bless- 
ing, and going back to his walk, searching the distance 
for his friend long before Mr. Seaforth could come. The 
moon set, and the stars faded, and great red and primrose 
lights ran up the east, and the middle sky shone like that 
vision of a sapphire throne. Oh, how can a world be so 
lovely that looks on death ? 

With the light, Hannah rose up, attended to her pa- 
tients, went to the farm-house and prepared food for them, 
and then, ever thoughtful, brought a tray to us with 
coffee and food. My uncle ate a little and so did I, then 
he carried a cup of coffee to Judith. She put it by until 
he said, " For my sake, daughter," and then she drank it. 
There was no change all that morning. It was a hot day. 
The birds and the flowers seemed smothered. What little 
air stirred, stole through the great open doors of that 
barn. The reapers were a-field ; we heard now and again 
the echo of their voices, or the sound of the whetstone. 
Hannah told us the wounded in the houses, all of whom 
she had visited, would probably recover. The time 



466 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

seemed so long until Mr. Seaforth should come. My 
uncle sent a boy to meet him at the turning. A doctor — 
a genial-fliced old man — came to see the wounded, and 
looked with such compassionate eyes on Judith, that 
I blessed him from my heart. 

At ten there was some change in Henry ; the iron 
chain of unconsciousness seemed weakening or relaxing a 
little. Mv uncle looked nervously, first at his watch, 
then up the road. Another hour, and we heard the fierce 
beat of hoofs, and saAV Mr. Seaforth dashing up the lane, 
his white hair flying over his shoulders. We knew that 
he would come alone, neither Mrs. Seaforth nor xA.nnie 
were equal to that hard, long ride. He threw himself 
from his horse. 

" My poor Harry ! " cried my uncle, and those two old 
men were weeping, in each other's arms, the ruin of their 
dearest mutual hopes. 

I could not go inside that place then. Crying and 
mourning I stood without. Mr. Seaforth's horse was wet 
and trembling, and stood shaking, its head down and its 
feet wide apart. I beckoned the boy who had watched 
the road, and had him cover the creature, rub his sides 
and legs, throw water on its feet, and prepare it for food 
and drink. It somehow comforted me to care for the 
poor beast which had carried its master so nobly. Fi- 
nally I stole back to the barn. Henry's head had been 
laid on Judith's lap, Hannah stood behind her, and the 
two fathers sat at his feet. His state seemed growing 
more like sleep than insensibility, and finally, about 
noon, he breathed deeper, stirred, his face changed, and 



OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 467 

he looked up. There was no light of reason in the 
glance, and softly the lids fell again. This happened 
once or twice, and then he roused, a joyous recognition 
smiling from his eyes, as he saw Judith's face bent near 
his. The soul strove for its departing dominion over the 
body — it was full strange to see those fleeting faculties 
return at some master summons. 

He spoke: "My Judith! dear, I had dreamed of nmr, 
of parting; and it was only a dream. You are here, my 
wife — and we two never part. I did not know that on 
earth one could feel so glad at heart as I do now." 

His face fairly shone with a strange joy, and all at 
once he seemed to see through depths of some bright 
distance far beyond Judith's face, and as he looked the 
light of life seemed not to shrink back toward a failing 
heart, as I have marked others die ; but in that bright 
smile and eager gaze, to pass out and be away, as I have 
seen birds lift up from pleasant nooks of earth, and be 
lost in sunny spaces. 

Then all was silence for a time, until I heard the 
voice of my uncle — who prays when he is glad, when he 
is sorrowful, when he is at peace, when he is fearful; in 
all time of rejoicing, or of Avoe — in prayer. And then 
again there was silence, and we looked at our dead, and 
the sobs of those old men rose up painfully, with my 
wild crying, who had lost less than any of them ; and I 
saw Hannah Dana, the silent and usually unmoved, drop 
down by Judith, and throwing her arms about her, cry : 

" Oh, I can pity you — I know how your heart is break- 
ing ! This loss was as mine, that has darkened all mv life." 



468 PATRIOT AND TOEY: 

And this word at last .stirred the fountain of Judith's 
tears. Her own sorrow had been so deep, so sudden, so 
desolating, that she had been dumb and tearless, but at 
this cry of Hannah's long pain, the tears flowed. 

Another space, and then my uncle and Mr. Seaforth 
went out together. Hannah lifted Henry's head from 
Judith's lap, pressed close his eyelids, and folded his 
hands over his chest, then she drew Judith from her 
place, and led her away through the rear .door of the 
barn, where a brook ran under some willow trees — and I 
was left alone standing by that still, restful form, where 
a smile yet lay on the face. There was a great silence, 
as if all the world had died in that one ; there was a glow 
and brightness, as if the very possibility of death had been 
done away. A broad bar of light streamed through the 
open doors, and two pigeons slid down that golden gleam, 
winnowing the sunshine with their wide white wings. The 
sunshine, the snowy, fearless birds, the fragrance on the 
summer air, the murmur of the brook — all this life and 
beauty, as a setting to that picture of death, seemed some- 
how strangely in accord with the Henry whom we had 
known and loved so well. A bright life, gone up through 
all this brightness toward those sunny skies, and that 
promise of good things to come. 

What a tower of strength was Hannah. She found us 
a messenger to send to Philadelphia. She cared for us all, 
forestalled all our plans, prepared us resting-places, and 
while Judith and Mr. Seaforth sat by Henry, Hannah 
went with my uncle to find some one to prepare a coffin, 
and to find conveyance for it to the city. Henry was 



OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 469 

dressed in his uniform. Hannah took such pains to 
make it look bright and nice, " It was a uniform that he 
honored as a man and a soldier," said she to me; "had 
every man who went to the war been like this man, there 
would have been no record of cruelties, or treacheries, or 
indignities to write." 

Uncle John told me that it was Mr. Seaforth's plan 
to bury Henry in the vault at the Logan House. He 
thought, as the times were unsettled and Henry had been 
for years a British officer, it would be wiser and safer to 
bury there at once. Until then it had not occurred to 
me that any one could see less cause to weep for Henry or 
give less sympathy to his parents because he had been a 
British officer ; that was his conscience and duty, and 
honorably was it performed. For ourselves his loss was 
as bitter to us as if it had been Charles — less to Susannah 
and me perhaps, and more to Judith. 

AYc left Matouchin at midnight. AYe had rested for 
several hours, and had been served with supper. The peo- 
ple at the farm were very good and pitiful to us, and the 
farmer's wife gave me choice of lilies and violets and 
roses, and I strewed them all over Henry before Judith 
took her last look ; and I cut off some of his curls. The 
coffin was closed and put in a covered w^agon. Uncle and 
I rode before it, Judith and Mr. Seaforth followed. 

We changed horses at Princeton, and we rested there, 
also at New Brunswick for a little. When we drew near 
Trenton, a carriage joined us with Hester and Susannah 
within, and Pompey and Peter on the box. The blacks 
wore white napkins pinned above their elbows. Pompey, 



470 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

honest soul, was full of sympathy. He said to my 
uncle : 

"Oh, Mass' Temple, I jes done broke up; -wish 'twas 
Pomp ; 'n 'ole nigger like me jes as well die as not, but its 
hard to spare sech a young man as Mass' Henry." And I 
believe the good fellow truly felt it. 

Judith went in the carriage with Susannah, and Hester 
took her horse. "We crossed the river and went down the 
Pennsylvania side. When we came to Germantown, the 
carriage with Mrs. Seaforth, Annie and Bessie, followed 
by the Seaforth servants, joined us. That was a very 
bitter hour. I verily thought dear Mrs. Seaforth must 
die in losing her son. It was then six o'clock. My un- 
cle's messenger had done his part well. As we came near 
the Logan House, the Logan family and servants came 
out to meet us, and with them the minister who has Mr. 
Duche's church. As it was growing late we passed at 
once by the carriage way to the foot of the hill, and 
then the six black servants carried the coffin into the 
vault and set it in the niche prepared for it. ISIiss Logan 
then went in and spread beautiful flowers and wreaths 
over it, and the rector read the burial service, Pompey 
holding a light at his shoulder. It was growing very 
dark under the side of the hill, and in the shadow of the 
trees. The rector in his robes stood in the door of the 
vault ; the blacks were standing inside waiting to close 
up the facing, and Ave gathered about the door. This had 
been a very lovely spot to me ; very often I had gathered 
violets and daffodils under these maples, or come here for 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 471 

autumn leaves, little thinking what a shadow of death 
was to fall over the place. 

We all went to our home in the city that night. Our 
pleasant stay in Trenton had been too rudely broken up 
for us to renew it. Hester returned with uncle after a 
few days to bring away Nervey and what things we had 
left there. The care of the home has for the most part 
fallen to me. I am very glad to be able to come between 
Judith and many little wearing cares. And yet Judith 
does not wish to abandon her duties and her family inter- 
ests. She was quite ill from grief and exhaustion for a 
few days after our return. Then she came down stairs 
and took her place at the head of the table again. She 
had put on deep black, not saying any thing about it, 
but with the air of one who never expects to put it off. 

Mrs. Seaforth is completely prostrated by her loss, and 
is not able to leave her room. Annie remains with her 
mother, and now Bessie shows strikingly the change that 
has come over her. She has quietly taken Mrs. Sea- 
forth's place, and cares for the Avhole house, thinks for 
Annie and her mother, directs the servants, and sees 
thoroughly to Mr. Seaforth's comfort. It is wonderful 
what a blessing she is to them, and how she is repaying 
Mrs. Seaforth for all her care, and sympathy, and good 
teaching. 

Yesterday I found Susannah sitting listlessly by the win- 
dow of her room, her hands dropped in her lap, looking out 
with a very sad face. I stood by her, not knowing what 
word might be comfortable, when she suddenly said to me : 



472 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

"Judith has one comfort — she saw Henry in his last 
hours, she heard his last word, and knows where he is 
buried," 

I knew what she meant, and also how she was deceiv- 
ing herself. I said: 

"And you fancy that Colonel Nelson has been killed, 
and that you lack that comfort that Judith has had, but 
do you not see that you have two comforts that she has 
not? She has the certainty of loss, you have a secret 
hope against your fears. It is the long silence that pains 
you, Susannah, and not the belief that Colonel Nelson is 
dead. I know you too well to think that you could keep 
up the calm and repression that you do, if you were sure 
that he were gone. From hour to hour you have the 
hope that this silence will be broken and explained, and 
though, as Solomon says, 'hope deferred maketh the 
heart sick,' yet so long as there is hojie the heart is not 
broken. And, Susannah, you are a Temple, and you have 
another emotion coming to your aid, and that is j^ride. 
You see the possibility — though you will not admit that 
you see it — that this man has proved forgetful, and you fight 
against grief while there is the bare possibility that you 
may mourn one M'ho has lightly relinquished you." 

Susannah, half crying, had hidden her face in her 
hands, while I was speaking to her. She looked up, 
brushing away her tears, her eyes sparkled. 

" lie is not false, and perhaps he is not dead. I will keep 
on fighting to believe the best. How did you come to 
be so keen at reading hearts and thoughts. Abbey ? Pray, 
did you ever read your own?" 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 473 

Kow this was skillfully carrying the war into the enemy's 
territory, and coming upon ground where I could not 
skirmish to advantage. I had rallied Susannah's spirits, 
and that was all that I wanted, so I ran away to take 
counsel with Nervey over a pudding. 

Last evening w^e had a flying visit from Charles. He 
comes with dispatches from General La Fayette, and is to 
receive promotion and remain for the time on the staff 
of the commander-in-chief. He was hastening toward 
the Hudson, reached here yesterday at five, and was off 
this morning at seven. Hester was the first to meet him 
as he came in, and she told him of our and the Seaforth's 
great loss. Poor Charles ! it was a sad story to him, for 
he had loved Henry as a brother. He divided his short 
visit between us and the Seaforth's, the best that he could. 

There is a general feeling of expectation in the country, 
that some decisive move is about to be made. Will our 
general find an opportunity to seize New York, or will 
the victory be in the South, and so secure our thirteen 
States intact? We are in sore need of help from some 
quarter. Charles says that General La Fayette is clothing 
and providing for his American troops in the most liberal 
and remarkable manner; and that he is nearly as much 
adored as the commander-in-chief. There is the best feel- 
ing between the American and French troops. My uncle 
has had a letter from Richard Reid, a beautiful letter, on 
our loss. Mr. Reid is very hopeful about aftairs. 



474 PATRIOT AND TORY: 



CHAPTER XIX. 

September 12, 1781. 
Ti^OR a long while there have not been very active mili- 
tary operations in this j)art of the country. The 
English and American armies, like two strong and well 
matched foes, each respecting the other's strength, and un- 
willing to move without some manifest advantage opening 
on their own side, have held each other at bay, posted 
respectively at New York and West Point. 

Fleet couriers carried the news on the 25th of August, 
that the French and American armies had crossed the 
Hudson, and by several lines of march were moving 
toward the Jerseys — making, the Americans for Spring- 
field, the French for Whippany. AVonder ran high. 
Did this mean the siege of New York, or Virginia and 
Cornwallis? Uncle said it was a grand piece of general- 
ship, which placed our troops on the banks of the Dela- 
ware before Sir Henry Clinton knew where they were 
going. It was too late then for him to oppose them, and 
they arrived here in fine condition. Arnold, the traitor, 
attempted a diversion by attacking New London, but it 
did not turn the commander-in-chief from his course. 
Here we were all in a state of enthusiasm to greet the 
most honored of the people. Washington arrived here 
about noon on the thirtieth. We all wondered, and cpies- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. ^Tib 

tionecl, and imagined, what the new move meant; but Ave 
were sure that it meant something wise and good, if it 
came from him, and the streets were filled with a shout- 
ing and applauding multitude, and flags, and flowers, and 
streamers hung from nearly all the windows. The gen- 
eral stayed with Mr. Robert Morris. My uncle learned 
from Mr. Morris that the great want, as usual, had been 
hard money for the expedition. But they borrowed 
twenty thousand pounds from the Count de Rochambeau, 
which Mr. Morris pledged himself to repay by the 1st of 
October. But almost at once this trouble was relieved, 
for Colonel Laurens arrived at Boston, returning from 
his mission to the French government, and brought two 
and a half millions of livres, cash, and a promise of 
three and a half millions of livres more soon. 

The general and his suite had preceded the army. The 
American troops arrived on September 2d. My uncle 
took Hester and me to see them enter the city. Their line 
of march extended over two miles. We were on a bal- 
cony at the upper part of the town, and every window 
and door was filled with spectators. Such a sight as our 
army was. The generals and staff officers looked well. 
They buy their own uniforms, keep their servants, and 
presented a fine appearance. The soldiers, however, were 
shabby enough ; their clothes and equipments were motley 
and patched, poor fellows! and as they kept step to 
drum and fife, and marched along in a terrible cloud of 
dust — for we had had no rain for a fortnight — I know 
they felt vexed at their appearance. We all wished that 
we could put every man of them in clothes suitable to 



476 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

his patriotism and courage, then they would have made a 
grand display indeed. 

Behind each brigade came field-pieces and ammunition- 
wagons. After all the soldiers had passed, came the camp 
furniture, wagons of tents, provisions, baggage, hospital 
stores, camp followers, carts driven by traders who kept 
stores near the camp, and occasionally, perched high on a 
load of baggage, or riding double (or even treble) on a 
broken-down horse, were soldiers' wives and children. 
The clouds of dust made every face dirty, and the coats 
of the officers appeared as if they had been in a fine 
snoAV. Captain Reid looked mortified enough as he bowed 
to us. He is very particular about his dress, and seemed 
conscious of grimy hands and countenance when he 
touched his hat. We also saw Isaiah Hooper. 

Next day we went out again to see the French troops 
come into the city. Charles was on duty and could not 
accompany us, but Mr. Reid came as our escort. The 
French were bound to look well. They halted a mile 
from the city, and made their toilets as carefully as a 
girl going to her first ball. Every particle of dust was 
banished, every hair was brushed smooth, and every 
sword, musket, and bayonet burnished to the best. They 
wore white uniforms, faced with green, and they had 
white cockades. They were accompanied by a splendid 
band of music, and thus they came gayly into the city, 
where streets, windows, and even roofs were crowded 
with a shouting multitude. 

" How much better they look than our poor fellows," said 
Captain Reid. " Ours are a set of scarecrows beside them." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 477 

*' Only to those who can not appreciate heroic self-sac- 
rifice — the bravery that for six years can contend for a 
principle, suffering daily worse than death for their 
canse/' I cried. " I had rather see Isaiah Hooper, worn, 
and faded, and patched as he appears, than all these gay 
troops. It is easy enough for them, well fed, and clad, 
and paid, to be soldiers; but men like Isaiah, have only 
gotten wounds, and imprisonment, and hunger, and sick- 
ness, and rags for their wages; and yet they fight on. 
They are true heroes." 

"Well," replied Captain Reid, looking well pleased, " we 
must not undervalue our allies. I fear we should have been 
beaten without French help ; and remember, that the lib- 
erty they talk about is a plant of our soil and not of theirs." 

We had had several visits from Charles while he was 
in the city ; indeed, he remained with us three days out 
of the week that he was in Philadelphia. Our joy at his 
presence was almost balanced by fear and sorrow, as 
he was going to a post of great danger ; and yet, as my 
uncle said, there must be active service to end this war, 
and we must make our sacrifice with the rest. Poor 
Annie was more distressed than any of us. The loss of 
her brother has renewed her apprehensions for Charles. 
I shall never forget the scene, when on the evening of 
the 4th of September, Charles came in, saying that they 
were to leave early next morning. Annie forgot every 
thing but her terror at having him go. She flew to him, 
and clasping her arms about him, shrieked : 

" O, Charles, Charles ! must you — why must you go 
and be killed like mv Henrv ? " 



478 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Neither uncle nor Judith were present to console her. 
Charles was completely unmanned, and we girls all burst 
into sobs and tears. I had been all day fighting against 
giving way to tears and lamentations because they were 
going away, and crying now came as a positive relief to 
me. Annie continued her plaint : 

" You will be killed ! you will be killed ! " 

Bessie was first to recover herself. She went to Annie 
and Charles, and, taking Annie's hand, said : 

" Xo, no, my dear girl ; he will come home in safety. 
God will not take from you both brother and lover. See, 
He has left good friends even to mey 

There was such resignation, such self-condemnation, 
such sad SAveetness in Bessie's tone that it went straight 
to my heart. I caught her in my arms. 

" Why, you dear, sweet girl, why should you not have 
friends left ? " I cried. 

Just then I heard Richard Reid's step in the hall, and 
I fled to the window for the shelter of the curtains. 
Charles led Annie away to a sofa in a distant corner, and 
Susannah, Hester, and Bessie were left standing in the 
middle of the room to greet our guests. Uncle came in 
with Mr. Reid. 

" Ah," he said, trying to be cheery, " marching orders 
have had a sad effect here. Crying? all but Hester!" 

" Dear me," said Hester, " I am so happy as not to have 
any lover to cry for, and so I can dispense with tears." 

" But I am also not parting with a lover," said Susan- 
nah, leaning against my uncle's shoulder as he put his 
arm about her. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 479 

" I am sure there is a lover in the business some- 
where," said Hester, striving to create a diversion. 

" You are doing yourself injustice," said Bessie, " for 
you were crying about Major Temple as heartily as the 
rest of us." 

Uncle led Susannah over to Annie and Charles. He 
laid his hand tenderly on Annie's fair head. She is a 
childish little creature, and uncle always treats her with 
an infinite tenderness. 

" Cheer up," he said, " the Scripture hath it : ' He that 
goeth forth and weepeth shall surely come again with 
rejoicing.' We shall remember this doleful day when 
Charles has come home in safety to remain." 

Meanwhile Richard Reid made his way to where I had 
taken refuge in the curtains. Said he : 

" I would I might hope that even one of these tears 
was for me." 

I replied : " I know my debt to all j^atriots. I weep 
for the whole army. Do you think that I am not grieved 
that Isaiah Hooper goes into danger again ? He has a 
wife waiting for him at home." 

" And yet," he said, " one would like to be missed 
individually, not merely as one of an army. A personal 
interest would be more a matter of consolation to me in 
lonely days or nights, or on the field of battle." 

" Very likely," I said. " We all feel in that way. I 

am sure all your friends will remember you especially. 

I know Hannah Dana says there is no one whom she 

misses so much when you are in another part of the 

armv." 

ol 



480 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

A little amusement sparkled in his eyes for a moment 
at something, then a sad, earnest look followed. He 
said: 

" I am glad that you spoke of Hannah. I want you to 
be a friend to her. Can you not get her to come here 
and rest? I fear she is wearing out with her great toils." 

I promised him that I would try to bring her hither. 
I daresay he was glad that I reminded him of her. If 
he truly cares for Hannah, why did he need to be re- 
minded ? It is a false sort of heart that needs reminding 
of one it loves. 

Well, next day they were gone. It seemed as if we 
ourselves had gone with them and only our mummies left 
behind. Annie and Bessie were back at Mrs. Seaforth's. 
Susannah and I brought our Avork to the parlor, and 
were waiting for Judith, who had gone to speak to 
Nervey, when in came Hester with a book, singing a 
little air, and striving with much bravado to keep her 
courage up. 

She cried : " Come, girls ! Why sit there so dolefully ? 
Do n't meet trouble half way. In the novels the hero 
always comes home, crowned with glory. So your heroes 
will come home — Colonel Nelson in the paM's of the 
British lion, and Captain Reid in the claws of the Ameri- 
can eagle." 

It made me completely angry at her, speaking as if 
Mr. Reid was as much to me as the colonel to Susannah. 
Does she think — well, what does she think? 

I cried sharply : " One would think, to hear you, that 
soldiers Avere out on a pleasure party, and sure to come 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 481 

home safe. Do you think I forget that Thomas Otis 
went, and has never come home at all?" 

Hester stared at me, her black eyes opening wide and 
her face growing very white. 

" Why ! " she exclaimed, " others who went with him 
have not come home, and yet they will — they will ! " and 
thereupon Hester burst into tears and ran out of the 
room. — for all the world as I used to do when I got very 
angry at Bessie — and left Susannah and me looking our 
wonder at each other. 

"What has come to Hester now?" said I — "what does 
she care?" 

" What, indeed !" said Susannah. " She is such an odd 
girl." 

We heard Judith meeting her in the hall, and the two 
went off together. By and by Judith came back, but no 
Hester. We had our usual morning work and reading. 
As Susannah and I were leaving the room to dress for 
dinner, Judith took my hand : 

" My dear Abbey, please do not tease Hester about 
Thomas Otis." 

" Certainly not," I said. " I never thought of such a 
thing. What was Thomas Otis ever to our Hester?" 

Of all the puzzles in the world ! — I felt like going 
straight to Hester to ask her what she cared about 
Thomas. I will be honest in this diary. I felt that I 
would like her to say that she felt very badly about him, 
for then it seemed as if I should somehow feel relieved 
of the burden of being the only one to care. 

But I must go to more important matters. Charles 



482 " PATRIOT AND TORY: 

told us that the general was leaving Philadelphia in nuich 
anxiety of mind, as he feared some misfortune had over- 
taken the Count de Grasse and the fleet of the French, 
upon whose co-operation with the land forces the success 
of this expedition will depend. 

General Washington set off on the morning of the oth, 
to the Head of Elk, going by land along the Chester 
road, the Count de Rochambeau going to that place by 
water. Some three miles below Chester, an express met 
the general, and told him that Count de Grasse was 
already in the mouth of the Chesapeake, with twenty- 
eight ships-of-the-line. This so overjoyed the com- 
mander-in-chief that he turned about, put spurs to his 
horse, and dashed back to Chester to felicitate the Count 
de Rochambeau. The count and the general had a very 
joyous impromptu dinner together, and in the evening the 
general proceeded on his way. Meanwhile, the express 
with his good news got a fresh horse and galloped on to 
Philadelphia, riding after the fashion of Paul Revere. 

Our Congress, after a review of French troops, had 
assembled at a dinner given to the officers by the French 
minister. Chevalier de Luzerne. Hardly were they seated 
at table, when the express came with the dispatches, 
stating that De Grasse had entered the river in safety, 
and that St. Simon, with three thousand troops, had 
landed and opened communications with the Marquis La 
Fayette. All the gentlemen at the banquet leaped up, 
shook hands, shouted, and went into a frenzy of rejoic- 
ing. The good news got into the streets. Hundreds of 
citizens gathered, shouting about the French minister's 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



483 



door ; the bells were rang ; every boy in the city flew for 
materials for a bonfire, or for a few fireworks ; guns were 
fired. Every man felt it his duty to huzza for Louis the 
Sixteenth ; and, indeed, the city was mad with joy. 

September 30, 1781. 
Dispatches have come up from the army, and we were 
so happy as to have a letter from Charles. I also had 
one from Mr. Eeid. I have never had very many letters 
in my life. This one was all about army matters. 
Charles told us that 
Washington reached 
Head of Elk on the 
6th, and f o u n d 
troops and stores al- 
ready preparing to 
embark. The gen- 
eral left General 
Heath to lead the 
American land 
forces, and General 
the Baron de Vio- 
menil to lead the 
French ; and him- 
self, on the 8th, 
pushed on to Baltimore. Charles says a deputation of 
citizens, with a congratulatory address, met the general, 
and in the evening the city was illuminated. The ladies 
brought flowers, and all the ofiicers received invitations 
to dinners at various dwellings. On the 9th, the general 
and Colonel Humphreys were up at day-break, and leav- 




GENERAL HEATH. 



484 



PATRIOT AND TORY: 



ing the rest of the suite to come when they could, those 
two spurred on toward Mount Vernon — that dear home 
which our general has not seen for six years. 

Charles, and the rest of the general's suite, made their 
way over the country more leisurely, and reached Mount 




MT. VERNON— THE HOME OF WASHINGTON. 

Vernon at dinner-time on the 10th. In the evening Count 
de Rochambeau arrived, and on the 11th, General 
Chastellux and his aids. Charles said the good mansion 
was fairly overflowing with Virginian hospitality ; and 
Lady Washington was in her element, making her guests 
happy. She forgot no one. She even recalled me, and 
asked Charles how that little maiden Abbey was, and that 
she trusted Philadelphia follies Avould not spoil me. She 
does not know what a careful guardian Uncle John is. 

My letter from Mr. Reid told us how nearly all the 
plans of this campaign had been frustrated once or 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 485 

twice. Unless the fleet in the river co-operates with the 

land forces in besieging Lord Cornwallis, no good can be 

effected, for his lordship could get off to New York by 

sea, or he could get men and provisions by sea, and 

so hold out indefinitely, or until British ships enter 

the river and bombard the French and American camp. 

Admiral Graves, in command of the British fleet 

in our waters, had nearly drawn Count de Grasse from 

Yorktown, but in a conflict on the 7th of September, the 

French had the advantage, and Admiral Graves retired to 

New York. On the 22d news of the arrival of Admiral 

Digby in New York, with six ships-of-the-line, almost 

caused De Grasse to leave the Chesapeake, lest now he 

should be caught in the river, and his fleet destroyed. 

Washington and La Fayette, however, persuaded him to 

remain, and the express to the city was to tell of good 

fortune thus far. And so are we left, in mingled hope and 

anxiety. Any moment we may learn of a glorious victory 

or a terrible defeat. 

November 10, 1781. 

Our suspense has ended. On the night of the 23d 
of October, I was aroused by hearing a horse dashing 
past our house in a very unusual manner. I shook 
Hester, saying, " I believe there is news from the army." 
So we two sat up in bed listening, in a terrible state of 
anxiety. It was almost one o'clock. As we listened to 
the dying sound of the hoofs, the echo of some other 
sound came to us. I rose and put up a window, and 
then Hester and I put on our shawls and leaned out of 
the window in our impatience. A loud shout came up 



486 PATRIOT AND TOBY : 

from the direction of Second Street; then a watchman 
dashed into Chestnut Street, roaring "One o'clock and 
CornwaUis is taken!" and suddenly windows flew up, 
and heads were thrust forth, and all over the city we 
heard the watchmen shouting "One o'clock and Corn- 
waUis is taken ! " I flew down to ray uncle, who was 
sleeping in the rear of the house, and bursting into his 
room without ceremony of knocking, I screamed — 

" Uncle John, what are you asleep for ! CornwaUis is 
surrendered ! " 

My uncle sat up in bed and cried, 

" What do you mean ? " 

Just then the State House bell began a fearful clangor, 
and I repeated, 

" CornwaUis is taken ! " 

My uncle forthwith gave a loud huzza, and for want of 
a better way to show his feelings, tore ofl" his night-cap 
and threw it at the ceiling. I lit his candle for him at 
the lamp burning in the hall, and then, with slippers 
clattering loosely on my feet, and my great shawl trailing 
behind me, I went up toward the girls' room, for Hester 
had run thither, and I heard them all talking at once. 

As I came near their room I heard a great clatter on 
the attic stairs, and down came Nervey, Pompey, and 
Peter, pell-mell, their arms laden with their private 
property — clothes, pillows, boots, looking-glass, old hats — 
the queerest trio that ever candle shone on they 
looked, as I saw them by the light I carried. 

" Run, run, Missey Abbey," cried Nervey ; " run for your 
life ; dis house a-fire ; hark ye de noise ; come 'long, honey ! " 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 487 

" De British, de British, dey hab come ! " yelled Peter. 

" Come 'long, missey," howled Pompey," " come some- 
where, but dis chile don know where ; come 'long." 

I laughed until I cried. The overburdened three ran 
into each other, dropped their precious goods. Nervey's 
water-pitcher took flight down the front stairs, pursued 
by Pompey's top boots — a relic of Charles ; and Peter, 
tripping at the stair-top on his mother's trailing bed- 
quilt, fell head first, but with such a bundle of garments 
and pillows in his arms, that he came unharmed upon 
them in the lower hall, obstructing the progress of Un- 
cle John, who, having arrayed himself with some degree 
of splendor, in his best dressing gown, his satin Sunday 
breeches, his night-shirt, stocking feet, and a wig, was 
coming up to congratulate us preparatory to going out 
to congratulate his neighbors ! 

It w^as altogether a night of tumult — of great rejoicing 
and secret fears. What might we not have paid for vic- 
tory ? Still no one of us whispered this thought. Uncle 
John always bids us rejoice when God sends us a victory, 
and not meet despair and loss half way. 

The streets of our usually quiet city were crowded with 
people from the first cry of the victory. Men and women 
alike went out to discuss the tidings, and the house of 
Thomas McKean, president of Congress, was besieged 
with people. Lieutenant-colonel Tilghman, who brought 
the news, M'as nearly dead with fatigue, but he was obliged 
to thrust his head out of his bed-room window again and 
again, to say that the victory was complete, Washington 
safe, our loss small, and other things of the kind. Lights 



488 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

moved past the windows until the city seemed illuminated, 
and as morning dawned, the booming of cannon was an 
added note in the manner of our jubilations. 

Uncle says that Colonel Tilghman experienced some of 
the changes of human events and popular feeling on that 
niglit of the 23d, he so tore through the streets, and be- 
labored President McKean's door to such an extent, that 
one of our vigilant watchmen pounced upon him as a dis- 
turber of the peace, and proclaimed him arrested. He 
was about to drag him off, and the colonel, still shouting 
for Mr. McKean, was nearly drawing sword in his own 
defense, when the president got awake enough to put his 
head out of the window and ask what was going on. 
The colonel at once gave his name and his news, when 
the lately hostile watchman clasped him in his arms and 
almost hugged the breath out of him, and vowed to love 
him like a brother to his dying day. 

Congress came together early in the morning. The 
street before the State House was filled with people. The 
dispatches were read, and Congress resolved to go in pro- 
cession at two o'clock to the Dutch Lutheran Church, to 
return thanks to God for his favor. Accordingly they 
went, and it was a good and solemn sight ; and hundreds 
of citizens followed them on foot, and not only was the 
church full, but all the street about it. My uncle saw 
Colonel Tilghman and learned that Charles was safe. 

November 20, 1781. 

A second letter which I received from Mr. Reid, when 
Charles's last letter came, gave an account of the siege and 
surrender of Yorktown. He savs nothing could exceed 



i 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



489 




^"^V.*-* >-CrtTlierv" 



a.Md Pen,\_ ^.^ Gi^^e^3on■■ 



the unanimity of feelings between the American and 
French officers, unless it was their bravery. Even the 
common soldiers seemed to vie with the commander-in- 
chief in courage. The scene at the city must have been 
grand and ter- 
rible. Shells 
crossed each 
other in their 
way through the 
air, leaving in 
the night long 
fiery tracks like 
comets ; some- 
times they fell 
into the river, 
and as they 
burst flung up 
great fountains 
of foam. There was, on the night of the 14th, an assault 
on the redoubts, the Americans being in one party and 
the French in another. The loss Avas heaviest for the 
French, but the redoubts were carried. Captain Reid 
says that the men in their zeal tore down the abcdis with 
their hands, lifted and dragged each other over the para- 
pets, flung themselves bodily on the enemy, and such en- 
thusiasm for victory he never saw before. 

Once Lord Cornwallls had arranged to escape in 
boats, and might have done so had not a fierce storm risen. 
Cornwallis beat for parley on the 17th. On the 19th 
terms were sent to him, with word that, if accepted, he 



Artifiu' 



Opri.CIintou '^'Sijlri 



JQers 



SIEGE OF YORKTOWN. 



490 



PATRIOT AND TOBY: 



must march out by two that afternoon. Our officers 
Avere in a desperate hurry, fearing that Admiral Graves 
might arrive with ships and re-inforcements and turn 
the scale. The land forces agreed to surrender to the 
Americans in the person of General Lincoln, who thus 
got balm for the mortification he had experienced when 
he had been obliged to surrender his own army, on simi- 
lar terms, at Charleston. The ships, transports, vessels, 
and naval stores surrendered to the Count de Grasse, com- 
mander of the French fleet. 



I 




SURRENDER OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 



Mr. Keid wrote me that the combined army was drawn 
up in two lines, each over a mile long, facing each other 
on the two sides of the road. The French looked splen- 
didly, as they did when here; all in gorgeous uniforms, 
well equipped, and with their band of music. Our poor 
fellows had only their stalwart valor and endurance to 
commend them. Only a part were in uniform, and their 
faded and worn clothes bore witness to a long, hard serv- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 491 

ice ; yet their resolute and soklier-like air made them a 
fair match for the finer French. Mr. Reid said that the 
crowd of people from the country round was nearly as 
great as the military. 

The British garrison came forth at two. Lord Corn- 
wall is said he was ill, and General O'Hara conducted the 
surrender. It is fine to be chief officer, and be able to 
make your subordinates do your disagreeable work for 
you ! The British had on new suits and looked healthy 
and soldierly/but chagrined, of course — so are we cha- 
grined when we get defeated. On the field where they 
grounded their arms, some of them flung down their mus- 
kets so hard as to break them. I do n't know as I won- 
der at that; they were brave men, and felt their unpleas- 
ant situation. On the very day of the surrender. Sir 
Henry Clinton concluded that it was time to go to Corn- 
wallis's relief, and sailed from Xew York witli troops 
and ships enough to raise the siege. He reached the 
Capes on the 24th, and heard of the capitulation. He 
hovered around tlio mouth of the Chesapeake until the 
29th, and then sailed back to New York. I am very 
glad that our officers and the French treated the British 
wdth the greatest kindness and courtesy. 

After the surrender at Yorktown, General Washington 
wanted to go and reduce Charleston, but Count de 
Grasse could not co-operate with him there, and so it 
was useless for him to go alone. The French fleet had 
engagements with the Spaniards, and went off. I would 
they had stayed, then this war might have ended by 
spring; but, of course, we can not expect our allies to care 



492 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

as much about it as we do. The Marquis La Fayette 
came up here to Philadelphia and got leave to go to 
France for a time, as there is no prospect of more fight- 
ing at present. 

The British prisoners are at Winchester and Fredericks- 
town, and Lord Cornwallis and his chief officers are gone 
on parole to New York. The French army are going 
into quarters at Williamsburg, and our army in Jersey 
and along the Hudson as before. Our general has had 
great sorrow in the midst of his joy. His step-son, Lady 
Washington's only surviving child, died on the fifth of 
this month. The general reached Eltham, just as Mr. 
Custis was dying. 

December 16, 1781. 

It seems as if there was not much but death to write 
about, as one friend after another dies, I feel as if by 
and by I would be all alone in the world with no one of 
my old-time friends left to speak to or care for. On the 
twenty-fifth of last month uncle had a letter from a sol- 
dier, written from near Princeton, saying that Hannah 
Dana was very ill with a fever. Uncle and ISIr. Seaforth 
both concluded to go to her, as they felt that her care of 
Henry could never be sufficiently recompensed; and they 
took rae, thinking that the sight of one of the old Plymouth 
faces would do her good. But tliere was no chance to do 
poor Hannah good. She had died before we reached the 
place where she lay. 

Those cruel country people were so afraid of the fever 
that they would not take her into their houses, and a tent 
had been put up for her in a little bit of woodland. A 



ONE HUNDRED YEABS AGO. 493 

bed was in the tent, and an old colored Avoman had been 
found to nurse her. We all felt that the woman had been 
kind and handy, and that Hannah had been made com- 
fortable in her last hours. The tent was good and well 
sheltered, and a big fire blazed in front of it. The bed 
Avas good, the tent floor strewn with fresh straw, and three 
of the soldiers had stayed to wait on their faithful friend. 

Hannah had only been dead about half an hour when 
we reached the place where she lay. One of the soldiers 
sat crying before the fire, and another sat on a milking 
stool at the foot of her pallet with a Bible on his knee. 
He had been reading to her, and her death had been so 
sudden and so quiet that they could hardly realize it, and 
sat there as if waiting for her to wake to life again. One 
of the soldiers had gone into Princeton to see about a 
coffin, and the old colored woman was praying and talk- 
ing to herself in a corner. 

Hannah's hair, under her cap, had grown perfectly 
white, and her hands were thin and wrinkled, but her 
face looked younger than ever I had seen it. The sol- 
dier said that she had felt from the first that she should 
die, but had not wanted any one sent for. She said "it 
Avas not AA^orth Avhile." He had AA'i'itten us AA'ithout her 
knoAvledge. He asked her if she had any messages to 
leave or any thing to giA^e. She said her AA^agon and 
Avhat stores Avere in it AA'as for the hospital ; her money Avas 
all gone. She. sent her love to her parents and brother, 
and bade them be glad that she been able to help a good 
cause. For the rest, she had only lier prayers to leave 
for her country. 



494 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

My uncle looking at her as she lay quiet in that last 
sleep, said: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a 
man should lay down his life for his friends," and that 
verse Mr. Seaforth ordered put on the stone which he is 
to have set up by her grave. We buried her next day in 
the graveyard at Princeton. We three, the three soldiers, 
and the colored woman being the entire attendance at the 
funeral. Surely a kinder, nobler, truer or more weary 
heart never ceased to beat. My uncle wrote to Mr. 
Reid, and I wrote to Deacon Dana. 

When we reached home from Princeton we found the city 
all bustle and rejoicing because General Washington had 
reached here to remain some time. When we drew rein 
at our own door, Charles ran out to help us dismount. 
So we shall have him home with us for the winter. 

Chaj'les tells us that the general is fearful that Con- 
gress and the nation will feel that in the capture of Lord 
Cornwallis all has been done that need be, and that they 
will relax their efforts. He desires the most vigorous 
l)reparations for the next summer's campaign. The Mar- 
quis La Fayette was expected to press our cause at the 
French Court, and Doctor Franklin, who still remains in 
France in goocT health and great popularity, is desired to 
request another loan. 

On the tenth of this month the Congress passed resolu- 
tions requiring men and money from the several States, 
and the general himself wrote to the different governors, 
begging them to be active. If all of them Avcro like the 
Governor of Virginia, Governor Nelson, there would be 
no trouble. Uncle Matthew wrote us, that before the 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 495 

siege of Yorktown, the State treasury was empty and the 
militia likely to disband for lack of pay, and the gov- 
ernor pledged all his private property as security on a 
loan to pay the soldiers. 

At the siege of Yorktown he was in command of a bat- 
tery, and bombarded a large stone house, the quarters of 
Cornwallis and his staff. This house was the governor's 
own, and he preferred its ruin to having it useful to the 
enemy. Uncle Matthew says that the governor made 
himself mortal enemies by impressing men and stores for 
the siege. But posterity will justify him, and show him 
as the man who was ready to sacrifice all that he had for 
his country. Indeed we have many such men, and our 
general is one. No wonder that the people gave him such 
an enthusiastic reception when he came here the last of the 
month. 

Although Charles is near us, and our hearts are at rest 
about his present safety, our life this winter is very quiet, 
and somewhat sad. Judith strives to keep her sorrows to 
herself, and takes her place among us as formerly. Susan- 
nah is calm, but has too many fits of musing to be a very 
lively companion ; and I must say for myself, that long ex- 
citement and the stronger changes of our* life during this 
war, have had the effect to make me decidedly cross a good 
deal of the time. I often fall into a muse about the 
pleasant life at Plymouth, and wish myself back in the 
dear old place, among familiar friends there, near the 
bright bay. Even the cold long winters have grown 
dear in my recollection, and they served to make the 
summer brighter by contrast. I like to fancy how the 



496 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

place looks now, and how if I were there I would make 
the garden and plant the flowers that ray great-grand- 
father loved so much, and how in the study I could 
almost fancy I saw my grandfather back, he seemed so 
inseparable from that place. 

Well, such fancies are idle, I can never go back. 
Bessie has a tenant on the place now, but the rent is 
small, times are very hard, money is amazingly scarce, 
except continental, which is worth nothing, and every 
thing is dear. Uncle John says that if once we had 
peace, and the army were successfully disbanded, Ave 
should become a very prosperous people, on account of 
our great resources; but after the peace the army will be 
a cause of anxiety, for so many men, long unused to home- 
life or regular occupation, and with no means of support, 
will be dangerous to the safety of the community. So 
there seems little likelihood of our soon getting out of 
our troubles. 

This morning we girls turned the parlor into a sort of 
pawn-shop exhibition or rag fair, bringing down all our 
old clothes. As it was a fearfully stormy day, and no one 
was likely to come in, we thought it a fine chance to see 
if we could oufof the old, find a way to make something 
new, for goods are wondrous scarce; and as to price — a 
bonnet costs two hundred dollars, and is but moderately 
good then; We sent Peter to bring Bessie to us. Judith, 
who is all in black, handed her former wardrobe over to 
Susannah and Hester, and I had yet one or two of my 
mother's dresses. Bessie brought with her the tucker I 
had once made her of grandmother's lace, and said I must 



O^E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 497 

use it for one of my gowns. I begged her to keep it 
herself, until she finally said, with tears in her eyes, that 
" she fairly hated the sight of it," so I slipped it away. 

Judith sat calmly directing and advising «s what to do. 
Hester ripped spasmodically. Our colored maid smoothed 
the pieces on a large press-board. Pompey had made us 
a big fire, and Nervey brought us cakes and coffee, yet for 
all these ameliorations of our lot, I was decidedly in the 
dumps. I got Goldsmith's Deserted Village, and read it 
aloud for awhile, then threw it by, and betook myself to 
the consideration of an old blue cardinal, which so dis- 
gusted me that I began a disquisition on the vanity of 
human affairs, and the general disadvantages of living. 
Concluding, with my usual sense of the ludicrous coming 
to the rescue, I declared that I believed if none of us 
had ever been born ice should none of us ever had regretted 
it. Bessie, who can never see this kind of a joke, looked 
curiously at me in my new mood ; and then, of all things, 
undertook gravely to prove that if none of us had ever 
been born we should all of us be very sorry indeed — 
which threw Hester and me into such convulsions of 
laughter, that even Judith and Susannah were obliged to 
join us. 

After that laugh we somehow felt better, time did not 
seem quite so long, nor the winter day so gloomy, nor the 
old gowns 60 ruinous. Bessie looked from one to the 
other of us, as we paused in our fits of laughter, and 
said: ""Well, I do not see what I have said that w^as 
funny. I leave the witty talk for Hester, but I am glad 
if I have made you feel any better; and if Abbey is only 



498 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

a mind to do half as well as she can do, your clothes 
also will speedily look better." 

Thus challenged, I stood our beautiful Susannah up in 
the middle of the room as a lay figure, surrounded her 
with her dry goods, and proceeded to fit her out with 
winter costumes, in all of which she kindly looked charm- 
ing. 



CHAPTER XX. 

February 6, 1782. 

r ADY WASHIXGTOX has come to stay with the 
^ general for a time. Owing to her recent loss she is 
living very quietly, but the ladies of the city are all call- 
ing upon her, and this morning, Hester, Susannah, and I 
M'ent. We went in state, walking to be sure, but we had 
on our best gowns and hats, and Peter in his sole suit of 
livery, stalked after us, as attendant, and we sent up our 
cards to Lady Washington. She was pleased to see us, 
greeted us with kindness, and remembered me. I ex- 
cused Judith's absence to her, telling of that great loss 
which had saddened all our hearts. Tears came into 
Lady Washington's eyes. She sent her love to Judith, 
and bade me tell her that sorrows had taught her deeply 
to sympathize with those who mourned the dead. 

Lady Washington was knitting, and was very plainly 
dressed. She had a basket of work on the table, and asked 
us were Ave doing any thing for the army this winter. 
And so I told her about our society work. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 499 

She seemed much struck with Susannah's appearance, 
and asked : 

" Had we not had temptations to be very gay while the 
British army — and then General Arnold — were here?" 

Hester replied : " The temptations make no difference. 
Law, in the person of Mr. Temple, is stronger than any 
amount of society temptations, and he thinks it is not 
right to enter into any gayeties while the country is in 
such distress." 

"But Susannah, who is truth itself, feared this asser- 
tion might make us seem more self-sacrificing than we 
were, and remarked, sweetly: 

" Not that we were quite out of society — we did not go 
abroad, but we were obliged to receive quietly at home. 
We could not keep visitors away, they would come, some- 
how." 

" So I should suppose," said Lady Washington, dryly ; 
and Susannah, seeing whither in her simplicity she had 
drifted, blushed up to her eyes. We had a very pleasant 
visit. Susannah said it would be a thing to remember 
all our lives, that we had made a call on Lady Washing- 
ton. 

At dinner, we girls did little but talk about our visit. 
When we left the table, my uncle said he wanted to see 
me in the library. When I went to him he began to 
talk about Plymouth. He said that he had a great affec- 
tion for the home of his brother, my grandfather, and 
that doubtless I had also. He should be sorry to see it 
go to strangers. As it was all the fortune Bessie had, it 
would be better for her to sell it, as a farm would be to 



500 P^ TRIO T AND TOR Y: 

her the most troublesome and least productive form of 
property. He had thought of offering her a fair price 
for the place himself, and he would do so, unless I wanted 
to be the purchaser. If I liked to buy it I could do it, 
and he would see that it was well taken care of for me. 
I was so surprised, I cried : 

" Oh, Uncle John ! can I really and truly buy the dear 
old home?" 

"Certainly, if you wish to," he said. ^ 

"And will there be any of my money left to repair it, 
and make a nice garden — and oh ! to build an arbor ? I 
always wanted an arbor near the big api^le-tree." 

Uncle John laughed heartily, but said very likely we 
could have an arbor. Then I bethought myself. 

" But, Uncle John, I always meant to give all my 
money away to the army. I have done nothing for that. 
Think how much Hannah Dana did." 

" Well," said Uncle John, " I have thought it all over, 
and as I daresay you are ready to be guided by me in 
your business, I really do not think you had better put 
your little property into the war. The war is most over. 
We shall at its close need good homes and family prop- 
erty more than we now need a few pounds more or less in 
the treasury. You had better buy the farm. I will settle it 
with Bessie ; it would be a kindness to your cousin for 
you to take it off her hands, and by and by you and I 
will go up there and decide on repairs, and put up that 
arbor that you want. 

Dear me, to-night I can hardly sleep for thinking how 
lovely it will be to own the old home ; to visit it ; to see 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



501 



the study and grandfather's easy chair. I shall almost hear 
great-grandfather giving the cry of the covenanters under 
the apple-tree, and grandmother, stately and trim, direct- 
ing the ways of the household ! 

August 12, 1782. 
AVhen I have nothing to write, I am anxious enough 






g g Q i 



n % fiiE 




WASHINGTON'S IIEAD-yUAKTERS AT NEWBURG. 

to fill up this diary. When a great deal is going on, I 

am so busy and interested that I have no time to write. 

After a four months' residence in Philadelphia, General 

Washington in March joined the army at Newburg. Of 



502 



PATRIOT AND TOBY: 



course that took Charles from us, but we parted with the 
less anxiety, as there was not much prospect of heavy 
fighting. Early in May, Sir Henry Clinton was relieved 
at New York, and Sir Guy Carleton took his place. 
Charles wrote us that Sir Carleton wrote to the general 

that the disposition 
of England was now 
for peace, and that 
he heartily concurred 
in such feeling, and 
desired no more 
fighting. Charles 
said the general re- 
marked that no man 
desired peace more 
heartily than him- 
self, but that he had 
observed that the 
surest Avay to obtain 
or retain peace was 
to be thoroughly prepared for war. 

Charles says that there is now great discontent in the 
army. The States have not furnished their proportions 
of money, and the destitution in camp is great. Officers, 
like Charles, who have funds of their own, can do pretty 
well, but those who depend on jiay that is never forth- 
coming, have want, and debt, and anger as their portion. 
The army begins to fear being disbanded without the 
payment of their claims, and so cast penniless on a com- 
munity, paralyzed by poverty and long unused to the arts 




SIR GUY CARLETON. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 503 

and occupations of peace. This state of aifairs in the 
army cast its gloom over us. When Charles wrote us 
that the sole fare officers had to set before their guests 
was tough beef and whisky hot from the still — which 
reduced Charles's fare to the beef only, for he does not 
take whisky — we felt almost condemned for having 
any thing comfortable on our own tables, and we repined 
over our blessings in that our army did not share them. 

But just here arose such home changes that our 
thoughts were quite distracted from the army. On a 
Thursday evening in May, all the family except myself 
had gone to church for the lecture. Since the war uncle 
always leaves one of the family at home, because the 
servants are so excitable that they would not know what 
to do or say if a messenger came in haste, or something 
should happen. It was a warm evening, and I sat by the 
open window looking into the garden — uncle says it is 
not proper for us to be sitting looking out of the street 
windows — when I heard a step at the parlor door, and, 
looking hastily about, there was Colonel Nelson ! Upon 
my word, taking possession of the house as coolly as he 
did the first time! My first impulse was to welcome him 
warmly, for I always liked him ; then it flashed into my 
mind that since he was alive and well, he had been neg- 
lecting our Susannah, and I advanced to meet him quite 
coldly. 

The colonel, however, did not stop to notice my cold- 
ness ; he grasped my hand, and without ceremony de- 
manded, 

" Miss Abbey, where is Susannah ? " 



504 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

" She is at church," said I, curtly. 

" Do n't be angry with mc for coming in as I did/' he 
said. " I knocked twice, indeed I did ; and I coukl not 
wait another minute. It is so long since I was here." 

I stepped into the hall, and bid Peter bring candles, as 
it was growing dark. When I returned, the colonel said, 

" Miss Temple, you were always a kind friend to me ; 
tell me, how will Susannah receive me ? " 

" Well enough, as she does every one, if she has not 
forgotten you," I said, for I was ready to take up arms 
for Susannah. 

"Forgotten me! how could she?" he cried, aghast. 

" You have given her ample opportunity," I retorted. 

" Miss Temple," he exclaimed, springing up, " what do 
you mean?" 

" Exactly what I say," I replied. " Susannah has not 
heard from you since you left New York ; and if that is 
not ample time for forgetting, how long, in your opinion, 
might be required?" 

"Well," he exclaimed, "if I have not been heard from 
since then, and you think the silence voluntary on my 
part, no wonder that you speak to me as you do. What 
a villain I must seem to you if I look guilty of neglect- 
ing Susannah," and he paced up and down in great con- 
fusion. Then he stopped before me: "And Susannah has 
felt deeply offended, and has forgotten me, do you think?" 
he asked. 

" She could not both forget and be offended at the 
same time," said I, smiling, for I began to think him 
blameless. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 505 

" I 'd rather have her angry than forgetful," he said. 

" She will be neither, if you prove that you are not so 
ill deserving as I have suggested," I replied, with a laugh. 

" Now you seem like yourself," he cried, taking a chair 
near me. " Miss Temple, I have been in Charleston, a 
place that I hated like a jail. I dare say it is a good 
place and in a good country, but for a British officer to 
be there, shut up to doing thieves' and hangman's duty, 
month after month, was enough to make one quit the 
service. I wrote to Susannah five or six times, but get- 
ting no reply, I concluded that her father did not think 
it consistent for her to be corresponding with the enemy, 
and resolved to have patience. As for my letters, I sup- 
pose that light-riding Marion, or some other of those 
quick Carolina gentlemen, had the pleasure of reading 
them, for they seized almost every thing that we sent out. 
I wrote once to poor Seaforth, asking him to say a good 
word for me, but that letter came back from New York 
by one of our ships, the" terrible news that Seaforth was 
dead, written on the outside." 

"And how did you get up here now? " I asked. 

"I was sent up to New York with dispatches, as my 
last bit of service. The time has come when I can sell 
out and leave the army, in a manly way, for we hear that 
fighting is nearly ended, and that peace will soon be ar- 
ranged for. My uncle and mother are so anxious for me 
to come home and settle, that now I will go. By the 
way, my sister is married, Miss Temple, and they want 
me to marry too." 

"I dare say if you go home and assert your intentions 



506 P^ TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

in that line, that you may easily find a wife among your 
fair neighbors," I replied. 

" How can you be so cruel ?" exclaimed he, in real dis- 
tress. " You know that if Susannah will not accept me, 
I shall be completely miserable. She is the only woman 
in the world that I ever have or can care for." 

"Well, I am sure I can not answer for Susannah," I 
returned. 

" But you can tell me if — well, if thinking me forgetful, 
or knowing me to be unworthy of such a prize as she is — 
she has now another suitor ! " he said, anxiously. 

" Dear, dear ; I can not answer for Susannah at all," I 
cried ; " all I can say is this, that she must not walk in 
suddenly and find you here. See, I shall take a light to 
the library, and when the family come home, I will send 
my uncle in there." 

So I escorted the colonel to the library, and stopped 
there talking to him until I heard the family on the 
porch. Then I went to the hall, and saying, " Uncle, 
there is some one in the library wanting you," I asked 
Susannah, " did they have a good lecture." 

" Grand," said Susannah, " I pitied you that it was 
your turn at home. President Witherspoon, of Princeton, 
was down, and spoke." 

And so President Witherspoon, and his ways and lect- 
ure kept us busy for awhile, and I, knowing not exactly 
how to tell Susannah who was there, said nothing ; and 
by and by my uncle came in, looking vastly well 
pleased. 

"Why, the visitor is as much yours as mine, Susannah," 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 507 

said he. "Who is there whom you AvoukI like well to 
see?" 

"Charles?" said Susannah, yet starting and flushing. 

"Eh? Charles would be for us all," said Uncle John, 
"but here is a guest who cares nothing for the rest of 
us rebels, if you are at home and inclined to welcome 
him." So he put her hand in his arm and led her away, 
while I told the others of Colonel Nelson's arrival, and 
of what he had said. 

Hester was inclined to think the colonel's story needed 
a sifting. Hester is the hardest on Tories or British of 
any of us ; but Judith asserted she had always believed in 
Colonel Nelson. 

Hester said : " Better be careful. Look at poor Bessie." 

" The colonel is a very different man from Major 
Banks," replied Judith, " and there is no fear that my 
father will not thoroughly satisfy himself about the 
person whom he gives Susannah to. He will write to 
his old business friends in England, and find out about 
everything." 

The colonel had leave of absence to return to England, 
and he intended to leave the army as soon as he reached 
home. Of course, he insisted that peace was now as- 
sured ; that he ought to be alloAved to marry Susannah 
and take her home with him at once ; — and, of course, 
my uncle did not look at the aflPair in that light at all. 
As for Susannah, she gave no voice in the matter, but 
remained serenely contented, happy in having her anxieties 
and doubts removed, and intent on making the colonel's 
stay as pleasant as possible. 



508 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Uncle's decision was, that the cohinel must go home 
alone, get out of the army, and consult the wishes of his 
friends in regard to his marriage. He might correspond 
with Susannah meanwhile, and Mr. Seaforth, by means 
of his friends and relatives in England, would satisfy my 
uncle concerning the colonel's family and aftairs. Then, 
if all went well, as soon as peace was declared, he could 
return and marry Susannah. 

The colonel, seeing that my uncle's mind was made up, 
and, indeed, that his decision was most reasonable, was 
forced to be contented. He remained with us until the 
18th of June, and really his visit was very delightful to 
us all. Indeed, if for no other reason, we must have 
been pleased to see our tranquil Susannah so happy. 
Instead of that busy endeavor to banish thought, she 
drifted back into her old fashion of sitting content M'ith 
her hands in her lap, merely enjoying life. The soft pink 
color that had formerly tinted her cheeks came back, and 
her deep blue eyes, under the golden beauty of her hair, 
made one think of seas and sunshine. Again the harpsi- 
chord and the violin were doing duet duty together — the 
first music to wliich our house has wakened since Henry 
died. On the 18th of June, the colonel left us for New 
York, from whence he expected immediately to sail for 
England. 

October 8. 1782. 

This summer has been marked by no great battles. 
There have been skirmishes in the South, and a steady 
success for the patriot arms. In July, Savannah was 
evacuated. On the 26th of August, Colonel Laurens, a 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO 509 

brave soldier, a great favorite of General "Washington, 
and lately our successful envoy to France, was killed in 
a skirmish. The fighting in the South has ceased since 
then, and we are now looking for the evacuation of 
Charleston. The French army went up to Vcrplanck'si 
Point about the middle of last month. Charles wrote us 
that the allies were warmly welcomed. Our men, being 
drawai up in array to greet them, looked better- than 
usual, as they had received so many arms and clothes 
from France, and captured so many at Yorktowu. 

The two armies are encamped for the winter about ten 
miles apart. The army is to be reduced in January. 
About the middle of August — yes, on the 16th of Au- 
gust — it was such a surprise as we had ! We were seated 
at dinner when we heard a knock at the door, and Pom- 
pey presently crying out: 

" Law ! but it do dese ole eyes good to look on 'e ole 
Pymouth face ! But, sakes, how you has growed ! Guess 
Missey nor none of 'em knows you dis time." 

Who could it be ? Pompey pushed the door wider 
open, and with much pride and satisfaction ushered in a 
brown-bearded, stout young man, and we all gave several 
looks before we could be sure that this was no other than 
Thomas Otis — Thomas who went away fair, smooth- 
faced, slender, and whom I had made sure was dead. 

Uncle gave him a hearty greeting, taking both his 
hands and shaking them with all his might. Judith and 
Susannah were also very cordial. I was so surprised at 
seeing Thomas back, after all my certainty of the melan- 
choly fashion of his death, that I stood gazing at him 



510 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

speechless until the other two "svclcomed him. Then as 
I advanced and held out my hand, Thomas cried out 
cheerily : 

" Here again, Abbey. Did you think I never was 
coming back ?^' 

" Yes," I said, soberly, " I thought you were never 
coming back." 

" Eh ? Well, you did n't break your heart about it at 
all events," said Thomas, laughing. 

"No. Why should I?" I said quickly. "But I 
thougiit you were a great loss to your country, and me, 
and every one, all the same." 

"Xow, Miss Hester, are you not going to say a word 
to me ? " demanded Thomas of Hester, who had coolly 
remained at the dinner-table. 

" Why," says Hester, " I thought five welcomes enough 
for any one mortal ; but I remember now you always 
were given to large demands, and so I add my greeting 
to the rest ; " and then Nervey came with another plate 
and seated Thomas between Hester and me. Uncle said 
a traveler must not be questioned at the dinner-table, and 
so we were not allowed to demand Thomas's liistory while 
he was eating. Thomas asked after Charles ; but gay 
and cureless as he seemed to be, his eye fell on Ju- 
dith's deep mourning dress, and he was cautious about 
making inquiries on other things than war news from 
the South, the facts about Cornwallis, the proceedings of 
the Congress, and the prospects of peace. After dinner 
we went into the parlor, and at once we girls clamored 
for Thomas's history. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



511 



" You seem," said Hester, " as ignorant of army and 
national affairs as if you had been on a voyage to the 
moon." 

" Well," said Thomas, " I have been a prisoner and at 
Montreal for how long I dare not say. I was carried off 




CAPTURE OF THOMAS OTIS BY THE INDIANS. 

in one of the fights up the Mohawk, by some Indians and 

British, and was sent to Montreal to wait exchange — and 

such a waiting as it was ! I found war different from 

what we had imagined it would be, Abbey, when we 
33 



512 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

talked of it, sitting on a hay-mow or rocking on the bay. 
Then I thought I should jump into a generalship in one 
or two leaps ; that the fate of the nation would hang 
upon my valor. As to being captured, that never crossed 
my mind. If it had, I would have pictured the whole 
army rising to reclaim me. Sometimes I fancied dying 
covered with glory and destined to immortal fame; 
but—" 

"But on the whole," said Hester, "you preferred living 
with a little less of glory and immortal fame." 

" Exactly," said Thomas — " less romance and more 
solid comfort for me now. The romance has been some- 
what rudely dispelled — kept a long while a prisoner, I 
return to find the war nearly ended without my help, and 
all of my friends comfortably eating their dinners with- 
out me." 

Thomas told us that, as a prisoner, he had been very 
kindly treated in Montreal. The officer who acted as 
provost of the city had become a great friend of his, and 
had granted him many privileges. Thomas only intended 
to stay in the city a short time to refit for camp, and then 
he was going to West Point. He was full of life and 
spirits, and exactly like the Thomas of the old Plymouth 
times. 

He remained two or three days with us, and told us a 
great many stories of his adventures. Now, of course, I 
was very glad that Thomas had not been killed. At the 
same time, I was very glad also that I had not told any 
one that I had felt it my duty to constitute myself sole 
mourner for his premature death. And then sometimes, 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 513 

in talking of the old days, Thomas fell into a sentimental 
strain with me, and he seemed to think it as much his 
duty to treat me gallantly as I had felt it mine to mourn 
for him. I wonder if it seemed as burdensome ! 

Well, there is no one like Judith. I determined to 
talk to her, so I followed her to her room one evening, 
and closing the door stood against it, and ruffling my 
apron on my finger, remarked : 

" Judith, I am glad Thomas is back." 

" I daresay," replied Judith. 

" But I have been gladder about other things, I 
think," I added, and as Judith was silent I continued — 
" And I had really thought Thomas had been killed, and 
I was very sorry, but not quite so sorry as I liave been 
about other things." 

"Well," said Judith, quietly, "there was nothing wrong 
in that." 

"But you see. Cousin Judith," I said, desperately, "a 
long while ago I had no playmate or young friend but 
Thomas, and Thomas had no sister, and we liked each 
other very much, and Thomas talked a deal of nonsense 
about being true to each other, and liking nobody but 
me, and I thought that was all right. And now, Judith," 
I concluded, desperately, "I do not like such talk, and I 
will not have such talk ! " 

"Not from any body?" asked Judith. 

"Well, not from Thomas," I said, "no one else think 
of such a thing. I like Thomas, and he likes me, and I 
wish he would find some one else to like better than me, 
and not feel himself obliged to drag in compliments and 



514 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

sentiments, and all that sort of thing, as if he were paying 
rae coppers or half crowns — only that one never sees them 
now — that he owed me." 

Judith laughed. "^Yc\\, what else. Abbey?" 

"Oh, what else, Judith? you think there is more in 
my mind? AVell, of all things, I hate changeableness and 
alterino; of one's mind — and I have often said I never 
changed — and after all you see I have; for once I liked 
Thomas the best, and now I think him very nice, but not — 
exactly to my mind." 

"I should be sorry, indeed, to hear that your mind 
never changed," said Judith; "our minds in many things 
change by growth, and you know that I have told you 
girls that here is the danger of too early playing at hav- 
ing lovers. You grow, and change, and find yourselves 
entangled by ideas and words that are no longer part of 
yourselves." 

"But, Judith, I never thought of lovers," I protested. 

" I know you did not, silly child," said Judith ; "you can 
not see that you have been playing brothers with Thomas. 
How does that suit?" 

" Oh, dear me," I said with a sigh of relief, " it suits 
beautifully ! " 

"The fact is," said Judith, "Thomas was playing lover, 
boy-like, and his mind is encumbered with the old idea. 
You like Thomas as a friend, but evidently. Abbey, your 
mind has outgrown him, as any thing else." 

"He is a very nice boy," said I, loftily. 

"Would be more pleasing to you if he were ten years 
older?" said Judith. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 515 

I blushed, and was silent. Judith said: 

" It only remains for you to free yourself of a false posi- 
tion by letting him know your views." 

" Oh, Judith/' I cried, " I never, never could, unless 
he asked me, and I would not have him ask for the 
world." 

"Simply understand yourself, and intend fairly to be 
understood, and you will find opportunity to make your 
views plain." 

Judith spoke so calmly and easily about my vexations, 
that they began to look smaller to me. This idea that I 
had only to understand myself clearly, and desire to be 
fairly understood, strij^ped the situation of a deal of em- 
barrassment. Thomas had been my old friend and play- 
mate, the nearest a brother that I ever had, and such 
I would have him be still, and that clear idea took away 
a deal of anxiety and vexation that I had felt in his 
society. And, sure enough, Judith was right. I dare say 
every day had offered opportunities for making myself 
plain, only I had been too silly to know it. Only the 
next day Thomas said to me, when we were alone in the 
parlor chatting: 

"Abbey, I have had a great loss." 

"Dear me, what can it be?" I said, indifferently. 

" Why, that lock of your hair — but you can make it up 
to me." 

"Nonsense, to think I would trust another token to 
such a careless fellow ! " I cried, laughing, and secretly 
rejoiced. 

"But I was not careless," he protested. "We were 



516 P^ TRIOT AND TOR Y: 

marching in the heat, and all of us piled our coats on a 
baggage-wagon, and my note-book with that memento 
was in my coat pocket. And all at once some Tories and 
Indians opened on us out of an ambuscade, and the end 
of it was that they got our baggage, and some of our fel- 
lows too. So, you see, I lost my coat, and what was worth 
more than the coat. Now, I am sure, you will give another 
token." 

"Not I," I retorted. "I think giving hair is a great 
folly, only fit for boys and girls. I'm glad you lost 
mine. No brothers and sisters give locks of hair, as I 
know of. Charles does not, for one, and yet we re- 
member him no less. And you know, Thomas, you 
and I being lonesome sort of children, among the 
old people at Plymouth, were a kind of brother and 
sister; and if we can't keep each other well enough 
in memory without such silly nonsense as a bit of 
hair, we'd l^etter confess at once to having lost our 
minds." 

I was knitting. Thomas cried out: 

" Now, upon my word. Abbey Temple, is that the way 
you look at things?" 

" Stay, do n't bother me now until I count my stitches," 
said I, cooly ; " I always get wrong turning the heel of a 
stocking." 

Thomas took his head between his hands, began pull- 
ing his hair into a great fuzz, the powder flying, and 
staring at the floor tohistled with all his might. Pres- 
ently he began again : 

"I say, Abbey Temple, if you have got that heel turned, 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 517 

and will allow me to speak — you always were about the 
queerest girl going." 

" Four, five, six — thank you, Thomas," said I. 

" But I'd have you to understand that / set up for a 
romantic young man." 

"Twelve, thirteen, fourteen — I never would have 
thought it." 

" But I am, and I doat, fairly docd, on locks of hair. I 
said I wouldn't take any but yours while I had it, but 
that being lost I comforted myself by making a collec- 
tion, and here it is." 

Thomas took out his pocket-book, opened some fold- 
ings of silver paper, and displayed, neatly tied with blue 
ribbons, a fine store of locks indeed ! Says he : 

" Here is l)rown, flax, yellow, white, red, auburn, gold — 
every color that I like." 

"Except black/' said I, quietly, as Hester came in. 

"Black, oh, by jove, black,'' said Thomas, striving to 
get his trophies out of sight, but I prevented him, and 
cried : 

"Hester, come here, and see how Thomas is emulating 
the Indian braves of his acquaintance ! " 

Poor Thomas, he flushed and looked uneasy, his little 
retort on my indifference was going further than he had 
expected, but I kept fast hold of the tissue. 

"Were the ladies of Montreal so willing to give away 
their hair?" demanded Hester, laughing. 

"I'll warrant it all came from icigs" said I. 

" Young man, no wonder you were not exchanged sooner, 
you are very much of a hinnbug. I see reason to doubt 



518 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

these trophies. This red hair is from some man's head, 
and I doubt the quality of this white." 

Here Thomas burst into a roar of laughter, and let- 
ting go the paper,. he said: 

"No wonder it is a proverb in Plymouth, that there is 
no deceiving the eye of a Temple ! " 

" Confess at once ! " cried Hester. 

" I '11 confess fully, if you will grant a full absolution ! " 
said Thomas; "the paper is the result of a frolic of our 
last day in prison. Our warders had been good jolly fel- 
lows, and ten of us vowed to have a memorial of them. 
AVe chased them into a corner, made a cordon, over- 
powered them, and each of us ten took a lock of hair as 
a trophy, and we made one of the servants go out and 
bring us tissue and ribbon to do up these elegant locks. 
To have in mind all, without partiality, we took this fine 
gold hair from the curls of one of the sergeant's little boys, 
and this white — no cheating you Abbey — from the gar- 
rison poodle! I'll trade the whole lot to any one who 
will give me one good, honest lock." 

"There are no offers here," said Hester. 

" I '11 give it to any one who will take good care of it, 
for my sake." 

"D.ar me," said Hester, "there is no one here will take 
the trouble." 

"Well, then," said Thomas, restoring it to his pocket, 
"I'll keep it, and whoever takes me for better or Avorse, 
will have to take that too." 

"We are warned in time," cried Hester; "and to be 
warned is to be wise," and away she went. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 519 

"And you think I admire black hair?" said Thomas, 
looking; after her — and he said no more. But somehow 
this nonsense put Thomas and me on the old free and 
comfortable footing, frank and friendly, neither of us 
burdened by any further idea of playing at lovers; and it 
was a notable thing to me, that Thomas — doubtless re- 
lieved of a burden as much as I was — began to find 
Hester remarkably good company. 

Thomas, after a short stay in Philadelphia, went to 
West Point, where what remains of his company are 
gathered. He wrote to us soon after, that in the general 
raggedness and shabbiness of the camp, even of general 
officers, his new clothes, his powder, ruffles, and other 
elegancies, in which he had indulged, were quite out of 
fashion. As for fighting, there was at present no more 
to do than he had had in Montreal, nor indeed so much, 
for there he could occasionally relieve his feelings by a 
passage at fisticuffs with his jailers, and his fare was 
not nearly so good as he had had in prison in Canada. 
He says he agrees with General "Washington, that it is 
high time for a peace. 

Hester has begun quite a flourishing correspondence 
with Thomas. His mad-cap style just fits her own, and 
she entertains us frequently in our sewing hours by 
reading her letters and his to us, and we receive their 
nonsense with shouts of applause. 

Charles's letters are not so merry; the discontents of 
the army, both of privates and officers, make him forebode 
trouble even after peace is declared. My uncle is also 
greatly anxious lest a sufficiently strong central govern- 



520 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

ment is not guaranteed. Mr. Morris is our only finan- 
cier, and many of the people only half trust hiin because 

he is an Eno-lishman. Mr. and Mistress Morris, Mr. Sea- 

. . . ' 

forth and his family and a few other friends, came to tea 

mth us only yesterday. Mr. Seaforth has now ceased to 
expect a conquest of this country by Britain. He looks 
for peace on the ground of the declared independence of 
the thirteen colonies. Indeed, it is supposed that our 
commissioners, Franklin, Adams, Jay, and Henry Lau- 
rens, are now at Paris treating with British commissioners 
for a peace. 

This expectation of peace formed the chief subject of 
conversation. We none of us said what was first in our 
thoughts, why, if peace was to be made thus, could it not 
have been made two or three years ago ; it would have 
saved us Henry Seaforth, and other families many a brave 
man. It is expected that the property of loyalists will 
now be confiscated. My uncle feels warmly against that, 
on account of Mr. Seaforth. He says truly, that the more 
busy and prosperous citizens a State has, the more pros- 
perous is the State itself; and he can not see that the 
country will be benefited by impoverishing those who 
would make faithful and law-abiding citizens now, whose 
consciences were against taking part in what they regarded 
as a rebellion. Mr. Morris said, he had heard it whis- 
pered that some of ]Mr. Seaforth's enemies were even now 
moving to get his property seized. 

" Well, Harry," said Uncle John, " I shall move every 
body and every thing that I can to save your estates, just 
as you would have done for me had the event of this war 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 521 

been different ; l)ut at the worst, Harry, do you remem- 
ber a bit of contract that we signed ? That requires you 
to become my partner if they do confiscate your prop- 
erty." 

"Ah, but," said Mr. Seaforth, " you know, John, I did 
not sign that expecting it would throw me on your 
hands." 

" No," replied my uncle, " but you must keep up to 
your contract, like an honest man ; you know I have your 
signature." 

]\Ir. Robert Morris began speaking of the letter which 
it is rumored that Nicola wrote to General Washington, 
suggesting that he should be the king of this new nation. 
Mr. Morris said here lay our danger, in losing the liber- 
ties we had so hardly gained, by endeavoring to set up in 
this New World, governments copied from the Old. The 
idea of a Republic, he said, had not dawned in its comple- 
tion on very many minds. A military despotism, heredi- 
tary government, whether we called the man at its head 
king, count, serene highness, or emperor, were alike 
unfitted to the genius and requirements of this western 
hemisphere, and would be alike disastrous. 

My Uncle John said that he did not apprehend trouble 
from such cause ; he thought the republican idea was 
pretty thoroughly sown over the land. Uncle says he 
fears our great trouble will be, not possessing a simplicity 
of manners and style of living suitable to a republican 
government. He says that what he has seen of extrava- 
gance and folly in this city, even during these terrible 
war times, has made him fear that we in this country will 



522 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 

try to ape other lands, not so much in their form of gov- 
ernment, as in the wastefulness and fashions of living ; 
that republican men and women, instead of holding sim- 
plicity, sincerity, and learning, as things of highest worth 
and most honoring to them, will think dress, entertain- 
ments, furniture, and grand equipage, the best object of 
their ambition, that they may vie with the courts, and 
parades, and nobles of foreign countries. 

My uncle continued : " This country, with all its future 
to make, with debts to pay, roads and public buildings to 
build, the ravages of war to repair, and the people realiz- 
ing themselves as all upon an equality, and supporting 
the government by revenues raised from among them- 
selves and subject to their own voice, will not choose to 
give their officials enormous salaries to maintain them in a 
style far above that of the people whom they represent. 
Our farmers and artisans will not pay heavy taxes to sup- 
port secretaries, and congressmen, and presidents in a 
magnificence of living which will teach them to despise 
those very farmers and artisans as an inferior race. If 
with these moderate salaries our public officers, chosen 
out of the people, and often men of no private fortunes, 
expect to keep establishments similar to those of foreign 
nobles of great hereditary property, and to give enter- 
tainments like those with which foreign rulers amuse their 
courtiers, then public honesty Avill be at a discount, offi- 
cial purity will l)e unequal to the temptation of the po- 
sition, and we shall stand before the world disgraced, the 
people robbed by their representatives, brother bribing 
and plundering brother, the American government a 



i 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 523 

laughing-stock among the nations, as a kind of thieves, 
a bold banditti crew, flaunting in high places." 

How Uncle John, as he spoke, reminded me of great- 
grandfather ! His whole soul was in what he was say- 
ing, for my uncle despises and detests extravagance and 
fashionable follies ; for he says that these are never, and 
can never be indulged, except by robbing God and one's 
neighbor. 

Mrs. Seaforth said : " Mr. Temple, you have shown a 
danger, a very great danger to this country ; where is the 
remedy ? " 

" I suppose," replied Uncle John, " that it is the one 
old remedy, good for all the evils in this world — god- 
liness ! " 

"And," said Mistress Seaforth, "that godliness must 
begin at home. This extravagance and fashion^ which 
you, sir, so deprecate, never can spring up and flourish 
without the aid of women. Very many men have a pas- 
sion for grand style and large expenditures, and yet if 
even these men have judicious, honest-minded mothers, 
sisters, wives, they will find their follies checked. If you 
would stay the extravagance and love of show, which you 
deplore as growing up here in America, you must begin 
with American w^omen. A public officer, Avhose wife is 
like the virtuous woman in Proverbs, will never be a de- 
faulter. \yhen you find women honest enough, and wise 
enough, to say of an expense, I can not aiford it ; women 
who will dare limit their expenses by their income, and 
who would blush to wear an unpaid for jewel, or a velvet 
which had been earned by swindling; women who will 



524 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

think themselves of worth for what they are in heart and 
brain, and not for what they wear, then you will be as- 
sured of incorruptible public men." 

"You have started my wife on her special hobby," 
said Mr. Seaforth. 

" I would," replied Uncle John, " that she would so 
talk to these young women every hour in the day;" and 
indeed, we girls and Bessie were hanging on her words, 
convinced of their truth and value. I think if all women 
and girls held views like Mistress Seaforth and Judith, 
the future prosperity of this country would be assured. 

November 3, 1782. 

I have had a letter from Dame Warren. She is at home 
in Plymouth, and hopes to have me visit her. She told 
me of the death of her famous brother, Mr. James Otis. 
It happened according to his wish. He was killed on the 
23d of last May, at the door of Mv. Osgood's house in 
Andover. He had always expressed a desire to die by a 
stroke of lightning, and this, indeed, was his end. Dame 
\yarren sent me a poem written about it, by Honorable 
Thomas Dawes — two lines are : 

"One chosen, ch.aritable bolt is sped, 
And Otis mingles with the glorious dead." 

He was truly as much a martyr to liberty as any who fell 
in battle. 

A day or two ago I heard of the death of another 
friend — the Indian Ta-ga-jute. Mistress Logan was here, 
and she said Logan went straight from here to Detroit, 
after he rescued me from Brown, and there, near Detroit, 
he was killed in a drunken frenzy. Poor, faithful, elo- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 525 

queut Ta-ga-jute ! Truly, as he said, the fire-water was 
the white man's evil gift to him. 

Uncle Matthew has been visiting us. He was sending 
to Nantes to his partner for various goods, and Judith 
sent for a great quantity of things. Susannah has had 
two letters from the colonel, who threatens instant return 
to be married, and Mr. Seaforth has had the best accounts 
of him from his friends, and uncle has written that he 
may come when peace comes. So Judith must be ready 
to give our Susannah a suitable trousseau to go to Eng- 
land. The lists of fine goods set us girls quite wild with 
delight. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



February 2, 1783. 
"QY order of Congress, the army was reduced the 1st of 
■^'^ January. Charleston was evacuated on the 14th of 
December, and now the only place held by the British is 
New York, and Sir Guy Carleton will be ready to leave 
there as soon as peace is proclaimed. Richard Reid and 
Thomas Otis were in regiments that were disbanded. 
They came here before they went to Boston. Mr. Reid 
intends now to finish reading theology, and take a con- 
gregation. Thomas is going into the India trade ; the 
gentleman who was his guardian, and formerly his father's 
partner, is in that line, and Thomas is going to have a 
share in the firm. He talks much of making a big for- 
tune. Hester said she did not understand how any one 
could prefer so grave a man as Mr. Reid to Thomas 



526 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Otis. Well, I never said that I preferred Mr. Keid to 
any one. 

Thomas is very full of fun, and he dresses most gor- 
geously ; but Mr. Keid is infinitely the greater scholar, 
and knows all about books, still Hester does not care for 
books. Thomas Otis said while he was here, one day, 
that all the books he cared to see were the Bible and an 
account-book. 

"Why," says Hester, "you are as catholic in your 
taste as I am ; all I want of books w'ould be a Bible and 
a cook-book. 

"Well, Hester," said Thomas; "when you and I go to 
housekeeping we will have two Bibles, an account-book, 
and a cook-book for our entire library — unless we add 
Poor Richard^s Almanac." 

At this bit of impudence, Hester solemnly rose and 
held out her liand to Thomas. He took it meekly. She 
led him to the door, handed him into the hall, and 
remarking : " Thomas, go and amuse yourself, you 
have been here too long." Came back to us and her 
sewing. 

" What is poor Mr. Otis to do in that cold hall ! " said 
Bessie. 

" I do not care, I am sure ; the idea of his taking 
things for granted in that way ! " retorted Hester. 

" Well, but when he asks you properly, what will you 
say?" urged Bessie, who has not lost her penchant for 
love aifairs. 

" Oh," replied Hester, sewing diligently, " I shall say 
no twice." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 527 

" That will be very discouraging to jioor Thomas," 
said I. 

" Xot if he is a good grammarian/' said Hester. 

Susannah and I laughed, but Bessie persisted, ""Whv?" 

"He Avill understand that two negatives make an af- 
firmative." 

I suppose that Hester had her opportunity for the two 
negatives, for Thomas went off in a very cheerful frame 
of mind, with uncle's permission for his coming back in 
May, to get Hester. We shall be dreadfully lonely with- 
out her. 

I got very angry at Thomas the evening before he 
left. He is such a mad-cap. AYe were going out to 
spend the evening in a little company. Charles was at 
home, and was taking Susannah. Thomas said : 

" Come, Hester, let us two be off, and leave Mr. Reid 
for Abbey." 

I would not have minded that, but he must go on and 
say : 

"Goodness! how mad I used to get at Dick Reid for 
sitting or walking by you long ago in Plymouth. That 
was always one of Dick's failings. Abbey, but now I 
do n't mind it." 

"One grows wiser with age," I said. 

"Eh? Well I don't know in this case whether it is 
wisdom or compensation," said Thomas, going off with 
Hester. 

However, Mr. Reid paid no more attention to the stu- 
pid's remarks than if he had not made them, and I recov- 
ered my good humor. 
34 



528 PATRIOT A^D TORY: 

Charles went back to camp when the other gentlemen 
set off for Boston. We girls are all busy now helping to 
prepare for Hester's marriage and Susannah's ; for if we 
are to judge Colonel Nelson's ways by his Avords, he will 
be here on the ship that brings news of peace. It will 
be such a long way for Susannah to go. If England were 
only a little nearer, or if there were only some way to 
annihilate time and space, so that one could get to the 
old country in a few days! But that is impossible. 

Charles intends to leave the army this spring and come 
back into uncle's business. I had a letter from Deborah 
Samson. She has gone to Shoreham to live. She said 
Mrs. Hooper could now get on without her tolerably 
well, and the rumor of her own elopement with a British 
soldier had never died, and was getting rather wearisome, 
as she could not contradict it by telling where she had 
spent the time of her absence from Plymouth. 

April 30, 1783. 

I must set myself to recording matters regularly, and 
in a business-like fashion, though I feel like jotting down 
my news in any style of confusion. To begin : Charles 
went back to camp in January, and Ave were all wondrous 
busy at home. He Avrote us of the discontents in the 
camp, and the fears of officers and men that their claims 
would be unheeded. In March anonymous papers began 
to be circulated in the army, calling on the officers to 
obtain redress for their grievances. Many officers, as 
Charles and Mr. Reid and Thomas Otis, do not expect to 
take pay for their services; they have means of their 
own, and think the country burdened enough already; 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 509 

but other men must have their pay or be penniless. 
The general does not intend to take compensation for his 
long services. The anonymous addresses stirred up the 
camp to much indignation. Finally, the general having 
memorialized Congress several times concerning the needs, 
fears, and rights of the army, announced that he would 
meet the conclave that had been called for the loth of 
ISIarch. Charles was present. He says that he felt to 
thank God as much for the general's wisdom and pru- 
dence and patriotism on the eve of peace, as for any thing 
in his conduct of war. 

The general read an address tending to arouse self-sac- 
rificing views, to reconcile the army to Congress, to calm 
and elevate all minds, and to give a confidence in the 
good faith and success of the country. At the close of 
his address he said that he would read a letter from the 
Honorable Joseph Jones, a member of Congress, giving 
assurance that the army would be fairly dealt with. Tak- 
ing the letter. General Washington read one sentence, 
paused, took out his spectacles, and begged leave to put 
them on, remarking quietly that " as he had grown gray 
in their service, he also found himself growing blind." 
Charles said the remark was so unaifected, so sincere, so 
matter-of-fact, that it went straight to every heart, and 
was as convincing as the most splendid burst of Patrick 
Henry's oratory could be. This man — intrepid in battle, 
patient in persecution, calm in danger, persevering under 
misfortune, moderate in victory, humble before adulation, 
honest as in God's sight — commanded every heart ; and as 
he left the room the officers passed resolutions to abide 



530 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

by his counsels, and by no distress should they be led to 
sully the glory of their eight years of faithful service. 
And so, as we have been led through the dangers of war 
by this marvelous man, are we by him piloted to safety, 
through the dangers of j^eace ; and the evil that threat- 
ened the country from the disaffection and disbanding of 
the army is likely to pass away. 

In Paris, on the 20th of January, a treaty of peace Avas 
signed. An armed ship, the Triumph, belonging to the 
French fleet, under Count D'Estaing, arrived from Cadiz 
here at Philadelphia, on the 23d of March, bringing a 
letter from the Marquis La Fayette, to the President of 
Congress, containing this blessed news. We were here as 
a people gone mad with joy. After eight weary years the 
cloud of war has rolled by. True, this proclamation is 
for cessation of hostilities, and many minor points remain 
to be settled, but the end is assured. Charles wrote us 
that by the 1st of April, Sir Guy Carleton wrote to Gen- 
eral Washington, announcing that he had been instructed 
to proclaim cessation of hostilities by sea and land. Al- 
most immediately a number of officers had leave to ob- 
tain their discharge, and Charles was one of the first to 
do so. As the day when, with tears and forebodings we 
saw him depart, was doleful, so the day when he returned 
to put off his regimentals and settle into quiet business 
life, was very joyful. 

There was that sad thought of one, Avho should have 
shared and added to the rejoicings of that day ; but we 
tried to be thankful for the mercies that we had received, 
and to take comfort concerning him whom we had lost. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 531 

We decked the house with flowers, made a feast, and in- 
vited some of our friends, and so celebrated Charles's 
home-coming. 

Just after Charles came'back we had a letter from Isa- 
iah Hooper ; at last he is going home. Congress, w^hile 
retaining its hold on those enlisted for the war, until the 
ratification of definitive articles of peace, yet instructed 
the general to grant furloughs without stint, and so Isaiah 
is out of service virtually. He Avrote us that gratitude 
urged him to come at once to Philadelphia, and bid fare- 
well to us, to whom twice he had owed his life, but the 
feelings of a husband and father, who, for eight years had 
not seen his wife and children, made every hour's delay 
in meeting them seem cruel, and he knew us well enough 
to believe that we would bid him at once go home. 

How well I remember the day when I helped little 
ten-year-old Liza put up her father's luncheon when he 
started for the war ! We find from Isaiah's letter that he 
is likely to get home eight years from the day when he 
left. In those eight years he has become an old man ; 
his Liza is a young woman engaged to be married. The 
boys of four and seven are now sturdy lads managing the 
farm. The two-year-old baby has become a prim little 
school-girl — and so Isaiah goes home a stranger to his 
own children ; but that strangeness will soon wear away. 

The 1st of April our goods came from Nantes, and we 
made a gala day of the unpacking. Mrs. Seaforth had 
sent for parcels for Annie, and so in both houses prepara- 
tions for the marriages are hurried on, though Uncle 
John is holdino; Colonel Nelson to the letter of his in- 



532 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

structions, and will not let Susannah go until the definitive 
treaty is concluded. Annie and Charles are to be married 
on the same day with Susannah, but Hester on the 15th 
of May, and then Uncle John and I will go to Boston 
with her, and thence to Plymouth. 

Judith, in apportioning her new purchases, laid by as 
much for me as for Hester or Susannah, and when I de- 
clared upon the folly of so doing, she said we could not 
send to Nantes every day, and I should not find her un- 
prepared for any demands. Well, Judith is just mistaken, 
that is all. 

Plymmth, JjJJSE 19, 1783. 

Here at last in the blessed old home ! Sitting once 
more under the big apple-tree — house and garden, flowers, 
fields, and sunshine, old well with its wet ropes and 
rusty chains, birds twittering overhead — all seem as they 
did ten years ago, when I sat under this tree beginning 
this journal. I might fancy grandmother busy there in 
the house; and Uncle John sitting in the doorway looks 
just like my grandfather. Hester was married on the 
15th of May. The marriage was at the house, at eight in 
the morning; then we had a grand breakfast — all our 
friends being invited, and at twelve, Thomas and Hester, 
Uncle John and I, set off for Boston — Pompey, by a week, 
preceded us, going much more slowly, driving a great 
wagon of Hester's property. 

We were a very merry party. Hester looked as charm- 
ing as possible. She wore a brown cloth riding-dress and 
jacket, with large white pearl buttons and white satin 
facings, quilted closely. She had a brown satin hat, Avith 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 533 

a long white ostrich plume, and a crimson silk scarf 
about her neck. She and Thomas were full of their non- 
sense. Uncle John indulged our merry humor by turn- 
ing boy for the occasion, and as we were all well mounted, 
we rattled along at a fine pace. Thomas had furnished a 
very pleasant house in Boston, and when our journey was 
finished we found ourselves there as Hester's guests. 
The house was all ready for us. Thomas's old friend, his 
former guardian's wife, had taken charge, hired servants, 
and prepared a feast, to which chief friends had been in- 
vited. Uncle and I stopped there three days, but I was 
eager to be here in Plymouth. 

Mr. Reid met us in Boston, and rode to Plymouth with 
us. We reached the town near night-fall, and went to 
Dame Mercy Warren's. 

Next morning we came hither. As we passed Isaiah 
Hooper's, we heard a loud shout, and there was Isaiah 
a-field with his two sons. His call brought Mistress Hooper 
and her elder daughter to the door, and so nothing would 
do but we must stop there for awhile. The little girl, 
dinner-basket in hand, was starting for school, but she 
returned — and, indeed, the family overwhelmed me with 
their affection, as the preserver of the father; but I do 
not so look at it. If I had not chanced to help Isaiah 
tW'ice, some one else would have been found to do so. 
Isaiah looks younger already, and is growing stouter. 

Yet a little farther on, after we had left Mr. Hooper's, 
and another call was heard, and a one-armed man stood 
at a lane-gate holding it open — Joseph Dana, sure enough ; 
and there we must go in. I w-anted to press oh, but the 



534 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 

thought of that aged woman whose daughter had died for 
the cause, turned my steps ; and, in fine, we stopped at the 
deacon's past dinner-time, the okl people listening to all 
Ave could tell them of Hannah. Mrs. Dana said : 

" People thought it strange that wo could let her go ; 
but we owed the country all that we could do for it; and 
Hannah's only comfort, since Jonas Hooper died, was 
doing good to others." 

" Yes," said INIr. Reid, " hers was a faithful heart. She 
desired only to fill np her time in this world by doing 
good, and then to join him whom she had loved so en- 
tirely." 

'' Well," said the deacon, " she wrote us that she went 
to camp knowing that she had one brother there, but she 
found in you and ]\Ir. Bowdoin two more." 

" We felt honored by her calling us her brothers," said 
Richard. 

With all our haste, it was afternoon before we came 
to the old home. I could not wait even to change my 
riding-dress until I went about all the house, and into 
the garden, and to the barn. Uncle and ]Mr. Reid sent 
away the horses and let me go 1)y myself. Finally, I 
was satisfied enough to go to my own old room and dress, 
and at five o'clock we had tea in the common room — 
uncle, and Mr. Reid and I. 

The days here have been so delightful I was never so 
happy in my life. All the neighbors have been to see me. 
Uncle and I have decided on the repairs, and the new 
fences and the arbor — only uncle is wanting to make it 
over-fine for a rented place ; but I suppose lie knows 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 



535 




ABBEY AND RICHARD REID AT PLYMOUTH. 



I 



536 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

best. Mr. Reicl and I have had walks and drives all 
about, and we have been to the bay, fishing and lobster- 
ing, and on Sunday we w'ere at the old church. We 
visited those graves which the kind people here have 
kept with such care, and we talked of those good and 
happy lives that ended before the great troubles of our 
war came. 

I had yesterday two letters. One was from Deborah, 
from Shoreham. She has just married a Mr. Gannett, a 
farmer, and says she has a good home and is very happy. 
The other letter was from Charles. They have had 
trouble in Philadelphia from a mutiny in the army. The 
newer soldiers — not the veteran troops — to the number 
of some three hundred, besieged the State House, where 
Congress was in session, and threatened violence if their 
demands were not complied with in twenty minutes. 
Congress, in indignation, adjourned to Princeton. Gen- 
eral Howe came with fifteen hundred men to quell the 
mutiny. Some of the ringleaders were condemned to 
death, but Charles expects that after a^vhile they will be 
pardoned. This trouble was all from the new recruits — 
not from those men who have borne the burden of the 
war. 

We are to start for Philadelphia about the 10th of 
July. We have had a letter from Hester, declaring 
Boston the finest place in the world, and "Thomas quite a 
piece of perfection, when he has her at hand to keep him 
in order ! " Mr. Reid is intending to stay here until we 
set out for home. Deacon Dana told me that he expects 
this church, which has had no settled pastor since Mr. 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 537 

Bowdoin left, to invite Mr. Reid to take charge next 
year. 

November 28, 1783. 

Here is a long blank — from Plymouth in lovely June 
to Philadelphia in windy November. But a deal has 
been said and done since Uncle John and I had our 
delightful ride back through the new-mown fields and the 
green woodlands from Plymouth to Philadelphia. 

The final treaty of peace was so long delayed, that 
Charles and Annie concluded not to wait for Susannah, 
and they were married the 1st of September. They are 
living. with Mr, Seaforth, and they are all so fond of 
Bessie that she is staying there, too. She just suits Mis- 
tress Seaforth noio. Bessie has a sweet voice and plays 
pleasantly on the harpsichord. She is fond of embroid- 
ery and all fancy-work, and she and Mistress Seaforth 
pass hours at such employments. They also make many 
clothes for the poor, and medicines and lotions and dainty 
food for the sick, whom they visit very faithfully. Bessie 
is also skilled in making rose-water and lavender-water, 
and other perfumes, with which she keeps us all supplied. 
She has gained a taste for such reading as Mistress Sea- 
forth prefers, and we find the good lady reading Herbert's 
poems and Goldsmith's works by the hour to Annie and 
Bessie. I think they are all happy in their way : Bessie 
by far happier and more contented in her mind than ever 
in the old times when she was so wild ; Mrs. Seaforth 
looking to meeting her son in a better world, and now 
come out of the nisrht of her sorrow into some daAvn-land 
of rest, waiting for an unending day ; Annie and Charles 



538 PATRIOT ANB TORY: 

entirely happy in each other. The day after the mar- 
riage Charles and Annie set off to Virginia to visit Uncle 
Matthew Temple. They were gone a month. 

On the 18th of September, who should appear among 
us but Colonel Nelson — though now he has left the 
army — and his uncle. They had left England the 1st of 
August, and had had a very fine passage. The colonel 
said that when he left home the signing of the definitive 
treaty was daily expected. He thought if he waited for 
that the season would grow too late to take Susannah to 
England this year, and that his uncle had come with 
him, hoping that my uncle would agree to having the 
marriage take place at once, the colonel and Susannah to 
remain in Philadelphia until the next spring. 

My uncle, glad to have Susannah at home so long, 
gave his consent^ and we had the wedding on the 10th 
of October. It was much more grand a wedding than 
either of the others, on account of Mr. Nelson's Uncle 
being here and the style of living which he maintains at 
home. The colonel brought Susannah a splendid present 
of pearls and diamonds, and his uncle gave her a case of 
various articles of jewelry of turquois and pearls, re- 
marking as he did so that jewels were given as an 
improvement in appearance generally, and that in that 
light he might well have left his at home, for Susannah 
needed no improving nor any addition to her appearance. 
He is perfectly delighted with Susannah, and says his 
nephew was quite right — there never was any one to be 
compared with her. Susannah was dressed in white satin 
and white brocade, and Judith gave her all their mother's 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 539 

lace, except one shawl, which had been among her gifts 
to Annie. 

Mr. Nelson's uncle especially amused us by his ecsta- 
sies. He rubbed his hands, walked up and down, and, 
admiring the bridal couple immensely, would say to 
every one : 

" By George, but they are a splendid pair ! I '11 have 
them presented at court. I do not fancy such a couple 
have been seen, even in London, this fifty years!" 

He was so entirely well pleased, that though he drank 
every toast that was given, and gave several himself with 
great gusto, he did not resent our greater abstemiousness, 
nor the fact that the bridal pair set down their glasses 
about as full as when they lifted them. Some one — Mr. 
Morris, I think — asked him : Did he allow his nephew 
and niece to slight his toasts. 

"Oh, by George," said he, "I've made up my mind to 
let those two do just as they like, without a question ; 
and, by George, I've known more people hindered than 
helped by taking Avine, though it never hurt me." 

All in all, Susannah's new uncle is one of the jolliest 
and most liberal of men, and we w^ere very sorry when 
he left us. He sailed from New York on the 25th of 
this month, when Sir Guy Carleton evacuated that city 
and our troops marched in. Mr. Nelson had been an old 
friend of Sir Guy, and went home in his ship. The 
definitive treaty was signed on the 3d of September, in 
Paris, and now all our land is our own, and the last 
company of British soldiers are out upon the sea, home- 
ward bound. I dare say they were as glad to go as we 



540 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

Mere to get rid of them. I hope they will never come 
back except as friends, and then let them come as many 
and as often as they like. Colonel Nelson and Susannah 
expect to sail for England the 1st of June. 

A gentleman from New York came here this evening. 
He left the day before yesterday morning. He says 
amnesty to all loyalists is proclaimed. The British went 
off feeling very amiable, and the patriot citizens were wild 
with joy at the entrance of General Washington. The 
British, when they marched out of Fort George, nailed 
the E.iglish flag to the top of the staff, and left it flying, 
knocking away the elects and greasing the pole. A sailor 
boy of the patriots got new elects, and went up the pole, 
nailing the cleets on as he ascended ; and taking down the 
flag he nailed the stars and stripes in its place, and the 
army saluted it with thirteen guns. Congress is now in 
session at Annapolis, and the general goes there in a few 
days to resign his command. Bessie is to come here and 
keep the house, and uncle with Judith and myself will go 
to Annapolis to be present on that important day. 

January 2, 1784. 

General Washington, on his way to Annapolis, stopped 
here at Philadelphia, to close his accounts with the 
Comptroller of the Treasury. Mr. Morris said to my 
uncle in an ecstasy of admiration of the general : 

"He is a man jierfect in every thing. He has kept his 
accounts from tlie commencement of the war down to the 
thirteenth of this actual month of December, as perfectly 
and clearly as if keeping accounts had been the sole busi- 
ness of his life." 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 541 

My uncle said : " How long in the history of this 
country Avill it be able to be said, that her public men 
leave their offices without the question of one penny 
in the accounts of their expenditures, and without the 
shadow of a stain on the entire unselfishness of their 
services ? " 

"At all events," said Mr. Morris, "you can not look 
for many duplicates of George Washington." 

" Well," said my uncle, " that schedule of Washington's 
public account will forever stand before the American 
people a touchstone of honesty in office, whereby we can 
try the administration of all other men." 

As the general went through New Jersey, Pennsylvania, 
and Maryland, he was hailed by an enthusiastic people, 
and greeted with addresses from civil officers, legislatures, 
and learned institutions. The people rose up as one man 
to do him honor. 

The time of the general's resignation of his command 
was fixed for twelve o'clock of the twenty-third of Decem- 
ber. Our party of three was among the favored ones 
admitted to the floor of the Hall of Congress. Lady 
Washington and other ladies were in the gallery. 

It was a most impressive scene. The audience listened 
breathless when the President — General INIifflin — signified 
that the Congress was ready to receive any communication 
from the general, and then Washington rose from his chair. 
His speech was sliort and grave, clear and to the point, 
resigning his command of the armies, commending the 
soldiers to the gratitude and justice of Congress, and the 
M'hole country to God. T think there was not one per- 



542 



PATRIOT AND TORY 



son in tho room who was not weeping, and inwardly 
thanking God that he had made such a man as this for 
the conduct of our nation in its peril. I shall never 
cease to he glad that I was present on such an occasion. 
The next day the general left Annapolis M'ith his com- 
pany to arrive at Mount Vernon on Christmas eve, and 




GENERAL WASHINGTON RESIGNING HIS COMMAND. 

there has the love and gratitude and blessing of his 
country followed him. 

We were home on New Year's eve. Bessie gave us 
two letters, one for me, and one for my uncle, both from 
Mr. Reid. Mr. Reid said that he had accepted the request 
of my grandflither's former people to become their pastor 
in the spring. He asked me if I could find it in my 
heart to come back to the old home as his wife. He said 
this had been his dearest wish, since first he had seen me 
at Dame Mercy Warren's at Plymouth, but that as I had 



OyE nUNDRED YEARS AGO. 543 

seemed so unconscious of his feclinjrs, he had not thought 
it right to try and engage my affections when he was in 
daily peril of his life in the army. He had, however, 
spoken of his hopes to Dame Warren, to Judith, and to 
my uncle, and they had approved of his views, and of his 
waiting until the country was quiet before speaking of 
them. He said he fancied I had believed him very fond 
of Hannah, but that of course I must have come to realize 
that his feelings for that good and heroic woman had been 
those of a brother. Finally, he said, if I consented to 
have him come in the spring to bring me to the old place, 
I would make all Plymouth glad. 

I sat in my room a long while, with the letter in my 
hand, very happy, but too bashful to go down stairs. At 
last there came a knock at my door, and Uncle John's 
voice. I bade him come in. 

He said : " Since you would not come to me, little 
maid, I have come to you. What shall I say to such a 
letter as this? (and he held out Mr. Reid's). Have I not 
been plundered enough by Thomas Otis and Colonel 
Nelson, that here is a man must demand you for Ply- 
mouth? A cold and scraggy bit of country that! unfit for 
roses; do you not say so?" 

" Oh, it is a lovely country, and roses thrive there won- 
drous Avell," I cried, eager in defense of the loved spot. 

"Ah, hah ! well, evidently it is in your mind to go and 

cultivate them there," said my uncle, laughing ; and then 

in a graver mood he took my hand, and bade God bless 

me! and said he knew I would be happy, for "the mercy 

of the Lord is on the thousands of generations of those 
35 



544 PATRIOT AND TORY: 

that fear Him ; " and he said that he had looked for this, 
and that it had been in his mind when he bid me bny 
the homestead, and when he ordered the repairs, and 
he had told Mr. Reid that if I agreed to come I must 
have that home. 

So we went down stairs, and Judith, and Susannah, and 
Bessie kissed me, and said they hoped I would be as 
happy as I always wished to make other people. To-day 
I wrote Richard, and my uncle wrote also, and said 
that the marriage should be on the 5th of May, and 
that Susannah and INIr. Nelson would see us to Ply- 
mouth, and call on Hester at Boston, before they sailed 
for England. They have put off leaving America until 

July 6th. 

Plymouth, June 10, 1784. 

Again at the old home, mine now for always, I hope. 
After Richard's letter and my answer, we were all busy 
indeed getting ready for my coming hither. At the first 
news, Nervey began to make her arrangements ; but it 
seemed wrong to me to take her from Judith, who has 
had her this eight years. I said as much to her. I was 
in the kitchen with Judith at the time, preparing fruit for 
a cake that she was making. Nervey burst into a loud 
laugh. 

" Jes hear dat chile ! " she cried. Then another roar of 
laughter — then : " Missey Judith ! jes you hark to Missey 
Abbey. Why she tinks she kin keep house widout me 
an' Peter an' Pompey ! Why, Miss Abbey, jes see 
hyar;" and Nervey placed her hands on her hips, planted 
her feet firmly, threw back her turbanded head, and en- 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 545 

tered upon her favorite reminiscences heard often before. 
"Why, I libbed wid dat chile's mudder when she wa'n't 
mor'n eighteen. When my Peter war a baby she cum 
right often to my cabin, and had him in her two ban's, 
and she made he a pink frock ; now I'se got dat frock 
yit, dis berry minit when I'se speakin'. Ef I didn't tote 
Miss Abbey roun' when she was a wliole heap too little 
to know nottin', I'd like to know who did?" Nervey 
paused for contradiction, but no one offered any. "When 
dat chile went wid Massa Matthew Temple, to her gran'- 
ther, me, an' Peter an' Pompey we went too. Ef her 
granmudder, a mos' mighty good woman, what hadn't no 
'sperience in bringin' upchilun', gib my chile Miss Abbey 
too long a lot ob sewin', or knittin', or spinnin' to does, 
why who but Nervey did de biggest half ob it, quiet 
like? Ef de ole lady would a bin vexed wid her for 
tearin' of her gowns, climbin' an' rompin' roan', why, who 
but Nervey mended em all up, afore dey was seen? 
When dat dere ole good lady see it her duty to hev de 
dishes put away when de chile was too late for dinner, 
den Nervey see it her duty to a growin' chile to keep a 
plenty hot an' nice for her, an' dat young boy what's gone 
married to Miss Hester, /see to warmin' her bed of cole 
nights. I see to gibbin' her plenty of cake, an' when 
she was lef all alone in dis here ebil worl, an' come here 
in de war time, me an' Peter an' Pompey we cum too ; 
an' I looked arter her, an' when I sees an ebil-minded 
soger rolling eyes at her, I said, no such doin's roun' your 
granmudder's girl, an' I drove dat soger oif." 

At this picture of my long-ago meeting with Deborah 



546 PA "^'RIO T AND TOR Y : 

Samson, I shrieked with laughter. Nervey, unabashed, 
continued : 

" When dat chile went to New York in war time, 
'mong murderin', wicked rapscallions, Nervey was de one 
to go and see to her and bring her home safe. When Mr. 
Reid tole me he Avas agoin' to ask my young Missey to 
hab him, /said I w'as 'greeable, an' would go eny time; 
an' now, now de chile really tinks she kin keep her house 
her owaise'f, an' do n't need me. Hoh ! she may leave 
Mr. Reid here ef she likes, or she kin stay here her 
ownse'f, ef she pleases, but me an' Peter an' Pompey, 
we 's goin' wid her to de worl's en', or to Plymouth, what 
is jes de same, so we is." 

And all that harangue is the reason why Nervey is now 
supreme in this kitchen, and Pompey is busy in the gar- 
den, and Peter is working in the barn, just as they all 
were ten years ago. These three came up here in April 
to get the place in order, and Hester came down then 
from Boston to superintend; and thus it was, w^hen our 
party came vip here from Philadelphia, all things were in 
a beautiful readiness for our reception.. Our company was 
a large one : Susannah and her husband. Uncle John, 
Judith, and Bessie, and Charles and Annie ; and here we 
found Thomas and Hester, and Dame Mercy, and Mr. 
James Warren. 

We were stopped at Isaiah Hoo})er's to rest and dress 
for company, because, as they told us, there was a great 
assembly at our home to welcome us. So, sure enough, 
when we had })ut on gala array and had come here, we 
found nearly the whole people in tlieir best, and Dame 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 547 

Warren's taste had prevailed to have much trimming of 
flowers, and the tables were spread out of doors, and even 
the little children were here with their welcomes and their 
flowers, and Dame Mercy had written a poem, which 
Thomas read after the feast. 

And when we had had many good wishes, and much 
cheerful talk and singing, and all had seen the house, 
arrayed newly under Hester's care, it was time for the 
company to disperse; and first they called on their pas- 
tor, Richard, my husband, for some words at parting. 
Now the day was the 1st of June, the tenth anniversary 
of the closing of Boston port by the famous Port Bill. 
Richard in a few words sketched the events of the last 
ten years, of war and peace. He spoke of grandfather 
and great-grandfather, and what their views had been, 
and he exhorted the people to banish all hostility now 
to the mother-country, to let the peace be a heart peace, 
and to show their gratitude to God, by making honest 
and noble use of their independence. He then called for 
the Bible, and after a prayer, he dismissed the people by 
reading these verses as a benediction on our country — 
and may God fulfill the word unto us : 

^'And I the Lord will be their God, and my servant 
Duvid a prince among them : I the Lord have spoken it. 
And I will make with them a covenant of peace, and 
will cause the evil beasts to cease out of the land; and 
they shall dwell in the wilderness, and sleep in the woods. 
And I will make them, and the places round about my 
hill, a blessing; and I will cause the shower to come 
down in his season : there shall be showers of blessing. 



548 



PATRIOT AXD TORY: 



"And the tree of the field shall yield her fruit, and 
the earth shall yield her increase, and they shall be safe 
in their land; and they shall know that I am the Lord, 
when I have broken the bands of their yoke, and deliv- 
ered them out of the hand of those that served themselves 
of them. 

"And I will raise up for them a plant of renown ; and 
they shall no more be consumed with hunger in the land, 
neither bear the shame of the heathen any more. 

" Thus shall they know that I the Lord am with them, 
and that they, even the house of Israel, are my people, 
saith the Lord God. 

"And ye my flock, even the flock of my pasture, are 
men ; and I am your God, saith the Lord God." 




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